For Earth and Her Colonies
by HistoryAnonymous
Summary: It has been five long years since the Abyssals appeared, and the war is far from over. Even with the spirits of past ships summoned to help, humanity faces a long and hard fight to rid their oceans of the Abyssal threat. But one mysterious girl might help turn the tide. Just, what on earth does "UNSC" mean?
1. Chapter 1: First Contact

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

"Oh, _man_ , what the hell?"

The first sensation the girl experienced was confusion. How _had_ she wound up lying on an ocean? As she dragged herself to her feet (noting the fact that, yes, she was standing on water, something she assured herself was impossible,) the girl noticed her equipment was scarred in several places. She wracked her brain, trying to remember what she was doing last.

"Oh right, I was in a knife-range fight with a fucking cruiser. 'Cause that's something we Stalwart's were _definitely_ designed to do." She shook her head. "At least those civvies got away…"

She rubbed her arm, then shook herself out of it. God only knew how, but she was still alive, and that meant she still had her duty. "All stations, check in."

Reports flowed into her bridge, few of them any good. Archer pods and even the point-defense guns were completely depleted; she'd need a complete resupply once she reported back to the Fleet. The one Longsword she was assigned was gone, probably left back where she charged those Covie ships.

A ping to Engineering on the status of her Slipspace drive was answered by the kind of laughter one makes when they're trying not to cry. She decided to let the crew there be for a little while.

Checking around the bridge revealed further bad news. Navigation was completely thrown for a loop; their last known position was deep space, where they had jumped in compliance with the Cole Protocol. Now they were deep inside a planetary gravity well whose atmosphere was right in the habitable zone, but all comm. checks found no traffic on UNSC channels, and calls on any UNSC network went unanswered.

"So let me see if I have this straight. We don't know our location, and because we don't know our location relative to any known star, we can't determine our own location, or how far we are from home." An affirmative; the girl sighed. "Is there anything we _do_ know?"

Surprisingly, short-ranged sensors replied in the affirmative: an unknown contact not too far away. The girl's eyes narrowed. "Still nothing on UNSC hails?" A negative. "Anything matching Covenant configuration?"

After some study, the sensor operator replied no. Nothing matched Covenant, UNSC, or even Insurrectionist. "So…what, a possible first contact?" An affirmative.

"Well," the girl sighed, "let's give it a try, I guess." Who knows? Maybe they would like to be friends.

* * *

 _Maybe they'll want to be friends_ , part of the girl's mind incredulously repeated a short time later. _Boy, am I stupid!_

"Yipe!" she called out, dodging to the side to avoid enemy fire as she tried to get away. The unknown contact—some girl/snake combination and a host of others—hadn't so much taken one look at her and opened fire. She had approached cautiously, MAC spinning, but as she saw the enemy fire she was forced to choose: shoot and hope she could weather the damage, or dump the MAC charge back into thrusters and dodge for her life.

Eight months of hard-earned experience fighting the Covenant led her to dodge instinctually. The first few ships that encountered the Covenant over Harvest probably believed in their Titanium-A armor plating, but over twenty years of war has shown the complete inability of UNSC armor to stand up to plasma fire. With no Archers or even point-defense guns, her only hope was to gain enough distance to spin up her MAC—and even then, experience fighting the Covenant proved that even a MAC shot was far from a sure thing.

A small part of her brain idly noted the enemy's use of projectile weaponry, and posited that her armor might indeed stand up to it. But that one part was immediately countered by a very recent memory of a Paris heavy catching a plasma torpedo on the nose, explosions cascading back until they reached and detonated the reactor. The girl decided it just wasn't worth the risk to be wrong.

But that still left the problem of trying to outrun snakegirl and her friends, who remained doggedly on her tail. She needed help—anything to distract the hostile so she could reengage.

"Open comms," she muttered, "no encryption. There's gotta be _someone_ out there…" Her fairy immediately balked—for all they know, the Covenant or an Innie might respond; what then? "Then we're dead," the girl growled, "but we're dead anyway if no one comes to help. I'll take the chance."

The fairy still glared, but opened the comm. channel anyway. UNSC frigates were no strangers to choosing between the bad and the worse option.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is UNSC frigate four-one-three light. Am being pursued by unidentified hostile. Armaments depleted, navigation inoperable. Requesting assistance. Message repeats. Mayday, mayday, mayday…"

* * *

Destroyer Division Six and their two babysitting cruisers were barely a quarter of their way through their resource expedition when the radio rooms of the six ships registered a repeating message coming from the East. Though the transmission was not in a language any of the ships spoke, Tenryuu and the others didn't need to speak English to understand the gist of the message.

It was a cry for help.

Tenryuu set her jaw in frustration, her hand absently perching itself on her sword. Even after the best efforts of the Kanmusu of Japan, most of the Pacific remained deep in Abyssal territory. Even Kanmusu ventured into the Pacific only in force—a lesson enforced when the destroyer Kisaragi was caught on her own and sunk. A few months ago several Kanmusu fleets were dispatched to strike Abyssal forces on the island of Midway, but Tenryuu knew from Nagato that the Midway plan was never intended to secure the Western Pacific: rather, it was a piece of strategic deception, aiming to force the Abyssals to focus west against further Japanese incursion and allow the Americans a window of opportunity to storm and re-secure the Hawaiian Islands, the major center of Abyssal threat in the Eastern Pacific.

Even though the plans had succeeded, Tenryuu knew it had been a close-run thing. CarDivs 1 and 2 had needed _weeks_ of repair, and even with their huge fleets the Americans were fighting tooth and nail to keep the supply train between the mainland and Pearl Harbor open. Despite the victory, the latest large supply run from the United States was still having to take the long southern roundabout, leapfrogging from South America to Australia to the British contingent in Singapore and up to Japan. There was no prospect of further offensive Kanmusu action in the near future.

And if Abyssal territory was dangerous to Kanmusu, it was far worse for conventional ships. Tenryuu shook her head, wondering what _idiot_ had thought it a good idea to venture so deep into the Pacific. Those were dead men, without question.

"Tenryuu-san!" A shout broke Tenryuu out of her grim thoughts, and she looked down at Inazuma's earnest expression. "We have to help them!"

Tenryuu broke into a small smile—Inazuma, ever compassionate, always wanting to help others—but as she looked back up her lips formed back into a frown. She tried to let her kids down easy. "We have our orders, Inazuma. The Admiral is expecting us to succeed. We can't just go charging off and forget our mission."

"But we have to try!" Ikazuchi insisted. "We are Kanmusu of Japan! It's our duty to help! The Admiral will understand!"

"We're not even sure where this ship is, let alone whether we can get there in time," Tenryuu countered regretfully. She was confident in her abilities, but she really had no inclination to charge off deep into enemy territory when it was doubtful they'd even be in time to recover the remains of the crew.

"Actually," Tatsuta spoke up, her radio range-finding working full-bore, "they don't seem too far away—an hour's sailing or so."

"Yeah! Hear that, Tenryuu? We're in range; that means we have to help!" Akatsuki now spoke her piece, and a glance at Hibiki told Tenryuu all she needed to know about the last destroyer's thoughts on the subject.

Tenryuu sighed, glanced at Tatsuta, and then looked up with fire back in her voice. "You're right. We won't just leave them to die! Come on, girls, we've got to get there as fast as we can!"

* * *

 _These people really don't know when to quit!_ the girl thought. She'd lost track of how long this chase had been going on, nor did she have any idea where she was going. For all she knew, snakegirl was leading her into a bunch of her friends. What would she do then?

 _Overload the reactor_ , she decided grimly. _Give snakebitch a hug of a few megatons, and take them with me_.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday," the girl started her message yet again, when suddenly her tactical officer screamed that more projectiles were coming from ahead.

 _Damnit, this is it then,_ was all the girl had time to think, before the shells screamed over her head and landed amongst snakebitch and co.

In that moment of confusion, the girl watched as six figures charged past her to engage the enemy, none of which were on any recognition chart in her database.

Still, best not waste the opportunity. The girl swung around, unslinging the weapon on her back and flipping the switch on the side. Instantly her momentum plummeted as her reactor's power flowed from her thrusters into her Magnetic Accelerator Cannon, as the readout on the back of the weapon showed a percentage, rising far too slowly for the girl's liking.

The Stalwart and Charon-class light frigates were the smallest UNSC ships able to mount MACs, but though that meant their reactor was capable of generating enough power to fire a MAC, it was far too small to do so effectively, or in concert with other systems like thrusters. A UNSC light frigate could be speedy and maneuverable, and it could charge and fire a MAC. What it could not do was both at the same time.

Noting the percentage and the rate of increase, the girl calculated it would take over two minutes to build up to full charge. In combat, where ten _seconds_ is an eternity, two full minutes might as well be the next century or so.

Still, there was nothing else she could do, so the girl resigned herself to looking at the battle, where, she noted with some amusement, snakebitch was tangling with someone wielding, of all things, a sword.

* * *

Tenryuu stared at the scene in front of them. A Kanmusu Tenryuu had never seen before was being chased by not only a flotilla of destroyers, not only a heavy cruiser accompanied by said destroyers, but a goddamn _Re-class battleship_.

 _Oh, we're so gonna die._

"Take the destroyers and the cruiser! I'll keep the Re-class busy!" Tenryuu shouted, as all six girls opened fire, startling the unknown Kanmusu and scattering the Abyssals.

 _Gotta hold on to my torpedoes and make them count,_ Tenryuu thought. _It's all I got that will damage that battleship._ She glanced at the odd-looking gun the strange girl was carrying. _Hopefully she can help me out!_

Yelling at the top of her lungs, Tenryuu swung her sword, but the battleship dodged out of the way faster than a battleship had any right to move. She swung and swung and swung, but never connected. Tenryuu glanced at the unknown Kanmusu, hoping to see her coming to her aid. But though the girl had unslung her weapon, she was just standing there and looking on, as though deciding whether she should intervene or keep running and leave Tenryuu to her fate. _A little fucking_ help _would be greatly appreciated, you know!_

Unfortunately Tenryuu's distraction cost her; she barely had enough time to dodge a return strike from the Re-class' snake, and then she was on the defensive. Dodging strike after strike, Tenryuu noticed the Re-class barely moving, content to watch with a slasher smile on its face as the snake did the dirty work. _This thing is toying with me!_

Tenryuu whirled around another snake attack and loosed her torpedoes. The Re-class' eyes went wide as she tried to dodge, but with only partial success. Doubled over in pain, she snarled as she looked up to see Tenryuu charging again with her sword, and opened fire with her batteries. Now it was Tenryuu's turn to frantically dodge, but one shell hit her directly through her stomach, bending her over and forcing the pair to disengage.

 _By the Emperor and Amaterasu that hurt_ , Tenryuu thought, as she and the Re-class circled each other. The Re-class suddenly charged, and though Tenryuu leapt out of the way in time she realized she was not as fast as she needed to be. The midships hit may have been a through-and-through, but clearly something had been messed up in engineering.

She dodged the Re-class' next strike, and the one after that, but the third one connected with her chest, sending Tenryuu flat on her back. She tried to stand back up, but clenched her eyes and her teeth when the attempt led her entire right side to explode in agony. Opening her eyes, she froze, taking in the Re-class standing directly above her. As the slasher smile slowly made its way back on to the Re-class' face, Tenryuu slowly inched her left hand closer to her sword, trying for one last attack.

The Re-class noticed her move, however, and the snarl suddenly returned in full force, and it reached its hand back. Fear, anger, and rage raced through Tenryuu's system, finally settling on almost a peace as she came to terms with the fact that she was about to die.

 _Better me than any of my girls_ , Tenryuu thought, slowly closing her visible eye. _You better take good care of them, Tatsuta._

* * *

The girl known to the UNSC bureaucracy as light frigate four-one-three found herself rather impressed at the sword skills shown by the eyepatch-wearing girl facing off against snakebitch. She smiled at the sword attacks keeping it off balance, and she cheered internally as she used snakebitch's laziness against her, launching a close-range explosive attack. But she winced at the hits eyepatch took, and as snakebitch loomed over her, the girl realized she was out of time.

She glanced at the charge on her MAC. _Eighty-seven percent. It'll have to do._ She shouldered the weapon, and taking notes from her compliment of ODST's and Marines, aimed at snakebitch's center mass.

 _Here goes everything_ , she thought. _Please, let this be enough to get snakebitch's attention away from that ship!_

She squeezed the trigger.

* * *

 ***POW!***

Tenryuu's eye shot open at one of the loudest noises she had ever heard, coupled with what felt like a punch to the gut. But instead of beholding her own demise, she found herself staring dumbstruck at what was apparently once the hips and legs of a Re-class battleship, the upper half of its torso simply _gone_. Glancing slightly to the right, she beheld the Re-class' snake tail, also simply staring dumbstruck at where the upper half of its master was just a second before.

Thinking quickly, Tenryuu snatched up her sword in her left hand, sheer adrenaline blasting through the pain as she drove the sword through the snake's head, putting it down. She noticed what looked like a slight smoke trail from where the Re-class's chest once was. Turning, she followed the smoke trail back to the gun of the strange Kanmusu, who seemed just as dumbfounded at the result of its work as everyone else was.

"Shit," Tenryuu called, drawing the Kanmusu's attention down to her. "Why didn't you use that sooner?"

"Tenryuu-san! What was that?" Tatsuta and the DesDiv Six destroyers sailed up, taking in the unknown Kanmusu, her odd weapon, and the rapidly sinking half of a Re-class battleship, before finally refocusing on Tenryuu herself, and her condition. "Tenryuu-san! Are you alright?" Inazuma asked.

"I've been better," Tenryuu admitted as Tatsuta lifted her up and supported her on her shoulder. "We should probably head back to port. I don't think I can make it through the expedition." The fact that Tenryuu was advocating heading back rather than boasting she could continue onward told the destroyer girls more than anything else how serious their minder was hurt. Suddenly, Tenryuu raised her head. "Hey, new girl," she called to the strange Kanmusu, "What's your name?"

The Kanmusu suddenly snapped to attention in a salute closer to the British-style ones Kongou sometimes did than the straight up-and-down arm like the Japanese did. Tenryuu couldn't follow most of what the girl said, other than her name was apparently "Yoo-Enn-Ess-See Hah-Vest," followed by what sounded like numbers.

"Yeah, I didn't really catch much of that, sorry," Tenryuu ground out. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, which meant that the pain was coming back. She'd start to really feel it soon. "I don't know how much you can understand me, but we're heading back to port. You're free to join us; it's up to you."

Yoo-Enn-Ess-See Hah-Vest apparently could get the gist of it. She nodded, and together the seven Kanmusu began the slow journey back to Yokosuka.


	2. Chapter 2: Time Warp

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

 _The waiting is always the hardest part_ , reflected the battleship Nagato as she stood on the pier of Yokosuka. It had been over an hour since she received Tatsuta's message that their expedition had diverted to rescue a kanmusu under fire and were returning to base with Tenryuu in desperate need of repair. She'd occupied herself with some of the endless paperwork on her desk, but with the expedition due back at any moment she, her sister Mutsu, and her assistant Ooyodo had come down to the pier to see how bad the situation was.

She heard Mutsu giggle, and realized she had been tapping her foot on the pier. Nagato sighed. She supposed she should have been used to waiting like this—she certainly did a lot of it as secretary ship—but it never got easier.

Mutsu's giggles abruptly halted; Nagato looked up, and sucked air in between her teeth. Tenryuu looked _bad_ , and the naked concern on Tatsuta's face for her sister only underscored how serious the situation was.

"Mutsu," Nagato muttered. Her sister needed no further instruction. She hopped into the bay to go relieve Tatsuta of her burden. As DesDiv Six watched the pair head towards the docks, Nagato tried to reassure them. "Don't worry; we'll patch her up. She'll be just fine." The destroyers, concern writ large on their faces, nodded as one; Tatsuta's smirk said _Of course she will_ , but her eyes betrayed her relief.

"Is anyone else hurt?" Nagato asked. To her relief, even though Tatsuta sported a couple bruises and the destroyers looked roughed up, the rest of the expedition shook their heads. _Banged up, but not enough to impede a mission_ , Nagato's mind translated. She sighed. "As much as I hate to do this after the fight you guys must have had, we really do need those supplies. I have to send you back out on your expedition." God, she _hated_ the pouting looks destroyers could give!

"That said," she continued, "I really do have to commend you on your work out there. You've rescued a kanmusu in enemy territory, at great risk to yourselves, and returned home. Rest assured, the Admiral will know about your good work. I know you're all concerned for Tenryuu, but trust me when I say that the fact she made it to port means she'll be alright. I'll make sure there will be treats waiting for you when you get back, and you can share them with Tenryuu later today." The smiles and grins on the destroyers' faces never failed to warm Nagato's heart. They saluted and headed back out to sea once again.

Nagato then turned to the newcomer. "Welcome to Yokosuka, I am the battleship Nagato, secretary ship of this base."

The newcomer didn't seem like she understood what Nagato said, but did realize that it was a greeting. She came to attention. "UNSC Harvest. Eff-eff-gee-elle four-one-three."

Nagato raised an eyebrow, and switched from Japanese to English. "Welcome to Yokosuka, UNSC Harvest." She repeated her introduction, then continued, "I'm afraid there are a couple matters I must see to, and I'm sure you require some replenishment. Light cruiser Ooyodo here will show you to the cafeteria, and we can debrief you afterward. Sound good?"

Harvest nodded and thanked Nagato, before she and Ooyodo headed towards the cafeteria. Nagato watched them walk off with a questioning look on her face. As secretary ship, she was more aware of the situation in the rest of the world than most kanmusu at Yokosuka, but she had never heard of a country designation 'UNSC'. The fact that she spoke English coupled with her possession of both a name and a numeric code pointed to an American ship, but she had no idea what an American ship not part of the relief convoy would be doing so far west.

The alpha-numeric code "FFGL" also threw her off. She knew the code "FFG", having coordinated with guided missile frigates of both the USN and the JMSDF, and mused perhaps that the designation was actually "FFG(L)", but no navy she knew of divided frigates into 'light' and 'heavy' categories.

And if her designation _was_ "FFG(L)" that raised even more questions. No navy had raised a kanmusu whose original hull had been laid after the end of 1945. Though some navies had kanmusu whose ships had served into the second half of the Twentieth Century—many of the American carriers, for example—they had all returned with their World War Two loadouts, and to the best of Nagato's knowledge there had been little success upgrading them beyond that. A guided missile kanmusu would be a huge boon…and yet this one had seemingly been just left to die in the wastes of the Pacific.

Nagato sighed. She supposed she could always call Saratoga and ask her some questions later, but for now she had work to do. The American relief convoy will finally arrive in a couple days, and she still had to debrief Tenryuu. She could speculate on the newcomer another time.

* * *

UNSC Harvest felt her mouth water. So much food! All recently cooked, a welcome break from shipboard rations!

"Here you go," her minder said. Harvest searched her databanks for a cruiser named Ooyodo and came up empty, but Harvest readily admitted she was far from knowing every ship in the UNSC Navy, or every base for that matter. Even as she started to eat, she realized she'd never heard of a UNSC base named Yokosuka. Pausing briefly (partially to allow her quartermaster a moment to sort the supplies out before stuffing in more) she looked up.

"Ooyodo—is it alright if I call you that?" Receiving a nod, she continued, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but…where am I?"

Ooyodo seemed confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she paused and took another bite. "I've never heard of a base named 'Yokosuka.' Where are we? What theater of the war?"

Ooyodo blinked. Slowly, she said, "Yokosuka is the major Japanese naval base for kanmusu. It represents the main base in the north-west Pacific." She glanced askance at Harvest wolfing down her meal and continued, "It's rather rare that a kanmusu doesn't know about Yokosuka."

"I've never heard the term 'kanmusu' either."

Ooyodo raised an eyebrow. "Well…you're recently returned, so I guess that's understandable. I'll arrange an orientation package for you." Harvest nodded in thanks, then Ooyodo asked, "Where are you from?"

"Reach," Harvest said automatically, then winced. ONI never looked kindly on sailors talking about how badly the war was going; 'loose lips spread panic' or something of the sort. "I mean I was constructed at Reach. As to where I was based," she paused for a moment, considering her answer. "Jericho Theater, Perseus Arm." She took another bite.

Ooyodo gave a skeptical look. "Forgive me, but I'm not familiar with those places. What's Reach?"

Harvest blinked. Maybe she could understand someone not knowing about Jericho, but…"You've never heard of Reach?" When Ooyodo shook her head, Harvest scoffed. "How can you have never heard of Reach? What backwards planet is this?"

Ooyodo's brow furrowed. She responded levelly, "Earth."

Everything in Harvest's mind came to a screeching halt. "Earth?" A nod. "And you've never heard of Reach." Another nod. Harvest leaned back and looked up, as though she could see through the roof to the sky. "The war's not going well at all, is it?" she asked despondently.

Ooyodo considered her own words carefully. "Large parts of the planet are…contested, I'll admit, but we're making progress."

Harvest nodded slowly, then inhaled the rest of the food on her plate. As Ooyodo's eyebrows rose, she checked in with her quartermaster. She'd need to be really restocked if she was to make a difference.

But her ping to her quartermaster on the status of her rearmament was depressing: one Archer.

 _You mean all that food only restocked_ one _Archer pod?_ she asked incredulously.

No, her fairy responded. Not one Archer _pod_. One _Archer_. Most of what she took on was far too lean to effectively make the material for anti-ship missiles. One Archer was all that they could squeeze out of it.

Harvest looked back up at Ooyodo. "Not to intrude, but is it possible I can have more?"

Ooyodo's eyebrows rose higher. "That's the usual meal for destroyers at our base. You should be fully restocked."

"It's very light," Harvest replied. "Is there something denser? It would make resupplying much more efficient for me."

"Denser?"

"As dense as you can."

* * *

Feeling like she made a decent enough dent in her paper work, and having dispatched Mutsu into town to fetch treats for DesDiv Six, Nagato made her way into the docks. She winced at the sight of the cruiser sitting in the healing waters there. "Tenryuu," she said in greeting.

"Hey, secretary ship," Tenryuu responded. "What can I do for you?"

"Just came to check up on you," the battleship replied. "I'm sorry, but I had to send your sister and the girls back out on their expedition run. I promised them a treat when they returned though," she amended quickly. Tenryuu nodded. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," the cruiser responded bluntly. "My starboard side's pretty well trashed; I'm keeping that arm as still as possible. I don't suppose you can spend a bucket on me?" Nagato shook her head ruefully. "Yeah, didn't think so. But I guess that's what I get for crossing swords with a Re-class."

" _What_." Nagato's reaction was harsher than she intended, and she regretted the wince she saw on Tenryuu's face. "What happened?"

"That girl was being chased by some destroyers, a heavy cruiser, and a Re-class. I sent Tatsuta and the girls to wreck the cruiser and destroyers while I kept the battleship busy. Got some good hits in on it too, but then it nailed me pretty good."

"And the girls came and saved you?"

"No. That new girl did." She looked up at Nagato. "Secretary ship, that gun the girl carries. It _one-shotted_ a Re-class. It blew her in half. Everything from the waist up; not shot off, just _gone_."

Nagato, for once, was speechless.

"It didn't sound like a normal cannon either," Tenryuu continued. "Not a 'thud' but a big 'pow'; I felt like I was punched in the gut when it went off, and there was smoke or some contrail from the gun to the target. I've never seen anything like that."

"…I think I have," Nagato muttered. Looking up at Tenryuu she continued, "Early in the Abyssal war, when we kanmusu would still sortie alongside conventional ships. The Americans had some ships with a strange main cannon—a railgun, I think they called it. I remember that contrail and that noise very clearly. But those ships were very few in number, and because the gun was so devastating the Abyssals singled those ships out first. I don't think any of them survived."

"You think the Americans managed to summon one of them as a kanmusu?" Tenryuu read her thoughts.

"Maybe. The ones I remember were very large, but the Americans persisted in calling them destroyers. And though I don't quite recognize the designation, I'm pretty sure the girl introduced herself as a guided missile frigate. But that doesn't explain why you found her in the middle of the Pacific."

"Maybe they got overconfident? Sent her off on her own, thinking she could make it through without trouble?"

"That's not what I mean. The Americans are fighting tooth and nail to secure Hawaii, and we've still got to recover and reorganize from the Midway strikes. Why would they send an incredibly powerful ship to a front unlikely to see any major fighting in the near future when they've got a pressing need for her right on their doorstep?"

Any further musing was cut off when Nagato picked up an urgent radio message from Ooyodo. "Secretary ship, I need you at the mess."

"Cruiser Ooyodo, what is the situation?"

"Well-…Ah-…" Nagato's brow furrowed. Such behavior was _very_ unlike her assistant cruiser. And then came a statement Nagato never expected to hear Ooyodo say:

"Look, you'll see when you get here."

* * *

When Nagato arrived at the mess, she understood how Ooyodo, of all people, could be speechless.

Empty plates abounded, as the newcomer wolfed down a meal Akagi would be proud of. _Oh, God, not_ another _heavy eater! Don't they know that we're having supply problems enough already?_ She stormed up to the table.

"Enough! Don't you know how tight supplies are? Aren't you fueled enough already?"

"I never needed refueling," Harvest shot back, much to Ooyodo's consternation. "I need re _arming_. If the war's already come to Earth, I need every bit of ammunition I can get."

Nagato seized Harvest by the arm and bodily yanked her out of the seat, hauling her across the cafeteria and not stopping until the duo were outside. As Ooyodo walked to join them, Nagato leaned close to the overeater and summoned her sternest expression. "You were fully fueled and ate all that _anyway_? Are you out of your mind? You are not the only ship on this base!"

"I'm the only one here now, and the Covenant are landing! She said much of the planet has already been overrun!" Harvest gestured to Ooyodo, who stared openly at a destroyer who dared to talk back to secretary battleship Nagato. "Earth— _Earth_ —is under attack and you want to _conserve_ supplies? We might have a week at most until we're through! Once they find what they're looking for they'll just glass the place; this isn't a time for _hoarding_ ; this is a time for throwing everything you have at them and getting in as many licks as we can!"

"We'll only have a week if you eat all the food on this base and leave nothing for everyone else! We've been at war for five years and have held our own, thank you very much, and we did so through very careful rationing and management of supplies!"

"What the hell do you mean five years? My namesake was over twenty years ago!"

Nagato took a deep breath. "The Abyssals appeared on Earth five years ago, and the kanmusu and navies of the world have been fighting ever since. Times have been tough, but we've made some real progress in the last few months, which will all go to naught if you deprive an entire naval base worth of kanmusu of supplies!"

This at last seemed to have gotten through to the newcomer, but rather than shamed she only seemed confused. "Ooyodo, what year is it?"

 _What the hell kind of question is_ that _?_ Nagato thought, and a shared glance told her Ooyodo thought the exact same thing. "Uh…, twenty twenty-five."

The newcomer stared. "Twenty twenty-five? As in two-zero-two-five?"

"Yes…?"

UNSC Harvest looked wide-eyed from Ooyodo, to Nagato, and back to Ooyodo, before her eyes rolled back in her head as she collapsed in a dead faint.


	3. Chapter 3: Down to Earth

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

Battleship Nagato sighed as she sank into her chair. _So glad the Admiral let me get a comfortable one_ , she thought, though she did momentarily regret not having one of those "massage chairs" she'd seen online. She could probably make good use of one after today.

She and Ooyodo had tried to remove Harvest's equipment after she went out cold, but found it surprisingly heavy. Additionally, it wasn't separated for ease-of-maintenance into propulsion, armament, and C&C like, oh, say, the equipment of _every single_ _other_ kanmusu in the freaking _world._ Ooyodo had to finally summon Akashi from the workshop; she was able to separate girl from equipment, but then had to go back to the workshop to get a cart to carry the stuff, it being far too heavy to carry back.

Nagato could have spent some time wondering how a frigate could carry a load that felt too heavy for two cruisers and a battleship, but with Harvest still unavailable for questioning she decided she'd rather let people with far more rank than her (like the Admiral, the lazy bum) worry about that. She'd report it to him whenever he deigned to show his face next and let him deal with it.

Setting Harvest on a couch outside her office (and covering her with a blanket; she wasn't heartless!) and returning to her paperwork Nagato felt the day go by rather fast. She would have missed DesDiv Six's reunion with Tenryuu had Mutsu not stuck her head in and let her know. (Let Mutsu tease her all she wants; Nagato would never want to miss the joy on those…cute faces…The joy; that's what she went for. The joy! The joy!)

Returning to her office she found Harvest still asleep, but murmuring and fidgeting. Nagato felt her face fall. She was no stranger to nightmares—few kanmusu were—but it still saddened her that someone so small would seem so troubled. She pulled up the blanket and tucked in around the small ship, who seemed to calm down a bit and snuggle in.

Feeling her cheeks heat slightly, Nagato stepped back into her office, remembering something she wanted to do since Harvest had arrived earlier that day. She glanced at the clock, calculating the seventeen-hour time difference between Yokosuka, Japan and San Diego, California. Once she calculated she would not, in fact, be waking her friend at some ungodly hour in the morning, she picked up the phone and dialed one of her closest friends.

"Saratoga," the other end of the line said brusquely. Nagato grinned; anytime someone called the Yokosuka office Nagato went through a whole process: "Kanmusu Base Yokosuka, Secretary Ship Nagato speaking." The Admiral had ordered her to do so: such a greeting was informative he said. It made clear who you were and what position you held, and allowed the caller to address you properly. When Nagato finally found out Saratoga's number, she had been surprised by the abrupt way Saratoga answered her office phone. It took her a couple months to work up the courage to ask why Saratoga answered her phone that way, and the sheer Americanness of it always made Nagato smile. "If you're intending to call this line, you know damn well who I am," Sara had said, "and if you don't know who I am, you _damn sure shouldn't be calling me_."

"Sara, it's Nagato. Hope I didn't wake you?"

"Nagato! No, it's past reveille, but boy, are you up late. Are you okay?" Nagato felt her chest warm at the sympathy in the American carriers' voice. Nagato was incredibly grateful the Admiral overlooked the long, frequent late-night talks between the Japanese battleship and the American carrier, particularly as her own nightmares kept her awake. Truly, no therapy Nagato could think of helped as much as those midnight chats across the Pacific. She was relieved the Abyssals were never able to cut that connection; she didn't know what she would have done had she needed her friend and not been able to contact her.

But that wasn't why Nagato was calling this night. "I'm doing fine, thank you. I've actually got a couple questions for you. Is this line secure?"

"As secure as it will ever be," Saratoga responded with a chuckle that masked the guard in her voice. A question like that always meant something serious. "What's up?"

"Have you managed to summon any new kanmusu lately?"

"We're always summoning new ship girls. Enterprise is out in the courtyard drilling a new class of escort carriers as we speak, in fact."

"I mean any new, new kanmusu. Post war, like those ships with the strange guns early in the war?"

"Ha! Getting her hands on a Zumwalt's railgun would probably be South Dakota's wet dream. No, no joy getting anything postwar. Hell, Boeing and Northrop-Grumman are driving themselves nuts trying to shrink jets down to size."

"I see." Nagato paused. "Forgive the topic shift, but can you think of anything for the acronym 'UNSC'?"

"Uh…" Nagato could hear Saratoga typing on her computer; she had done the same thing and come up with nothing. "Pff…I dunno. The UN Security Council, maybe? Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering—"

"Bullshit." Nagato smiled ruefully, here was the part of Saratoga that had busted past the barriers and forced Nagato to talk about Crossroads no matter how much she didn't want to. "You're not staying up to midnight just wondering about nothing. C'mon Nagato, what's up?"

"We found a kanmusu in the Abyssal territory," she said slowly. "Her ship prefix is UNSC, and according to one of my subordinates carried what I'm pretty sure is a railgun. Just wanted to ask if you knew anything about it."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm sure if we did have anything to do with it SoDak wouldn't stop bragging about it." There was a pause. "If...you do find out whose ship girl it is, it would be…appreciated if you could let us know. I know a few someones who will never let me hear the end of it if they find out someone has toys like that and we don't."

 _I'm asking this not as your friend Saratoga but as a representative of the United States Navy_. Someone listening in on the call might miss the shift in tone, or assume that the "someones" Saratoga complained about meant South Dakota and the other eager kanmusu working at the tech shop, but Nagato caught on and knew better. After a moment considering what she wanted to say, she replied, "I'll see what I can do. Most of my attention in the next couple days is going to be preparing for the relief convoy. They've had a long trek round the Pacific; maybe they'll want to rest a little bit before heading back."

 _Japan will not actively aid you, but I won't impede the United States investigating on its own_. Saratoga could read between the lines, too. "I'm sure they'd appreciate that, Nagato, thank you. Is there anything else? The damned paperwork fairy went and blessed my desk overnight…" _Get off the line. I need to make some calls_.

Nagato made sure her yawn went through the line. "No, that's about it, Sara. Enjoy your paperwork; I'm off to bed." _Friends regardless?_

A chuckle floated back from America. "I'll do my best. Sleep well, Nagato. Take care." _Of course._ She hung up.

Nagato sighed. Both Saratoga and her were high-ranking kanmusu, so she really wasn't all that surprised that politics intruded on their conversation, but Nagato still hated it when it did. She supposed that at the very least Saratoga never let politics come in between their friendship, so that was something to be grateful for. Even so, she missed the happy feeling she always had ending one of her carefree discussions with the American carrier. She got up from her desk, laid down on the futon she'd laid out in the corner of the office, and was almost immediately asleep.

* * *

Harvest knew she was a ship, and while she was a ship she knew some of her crew had nightmares. Therefore she knew what nightmares were intellectually, but that never prepared her for experiencing them.

 _COMFLT PRIORITY-9: Covenant fleet is assuming glassing formation. All frigates are to cease groundside operations immediately, collect what personnel they can, and proceed upstairs. Shivas are authorized by code Whitcomb Seven-Bravo-Niner-Delta._

It had been a small colony. Harvest couldn't even remember the name. She'd diverted there as soon as HIGHCOM received the alert that Covenant had entered the system.

 _Fleet, transport ship Harmony. Evacuation proceeding apace but we need more time to-_

 _Fleet's bought all the time it can. Five minutes until Covenant close the orbital envelope. You have three minutes to get upstairs, Harmony._

It had been a month since Harvest had glided out of the frigate yards orbiting Reach. Three weeks since she'd received her AI. Two weeks since her crew had come aboard. Her skipper's first mission. _Her_ first mission.

It couldn't end like this.

 _Fleet, this is patrol Golf-Eight. Requesting extraction._

 _All available assets are committed to evacuating civilians, Golf-Eight. I'm sorry._

 _Understood, Fleet. Get as many out as you can._

Harvest hovered above one of the main evacuation points, shuttling as many people as she could. She remembered how stuffed her hanger was. Civilians, Marines, ODSTs, Army, all crammed together. They'd even pushed some Pelicans out of the hanger to make room for more to come in.

So many people, but not enough. Never enough.

 _Evacuation at Twenty percent; requesting additional Pelicans!_

 _There's no more room! We can't take any more!_

 _This is EVAC point Delta; there's no transport here! We've got thousands of civvies needing a ride out!_

 _All callsigns, the orbital envelope is closed. I repeat, the orbital envelope is closed. If you're not out of atmosphere in the next thirty seconds, the Covenant won't let you out!_

The cry, the _wail_ of everyone still on the ground as Harvest ignited her engines and raced skyward! How was it possible that even as she left the atmosphere she could still hear the cry of everyone she left behind?

 _You can't just leave us!_

 _All Pelicans away. Orbital command out._

 _I don't want to die!_

 _Large Covenant vessel overhead; I can see the projector charging up. Tell them we did not go quietly into the night. Golf-Eight, over and out._

 _Anybody! Please! Help!_

 _Yit'gadal v'yit'kadash sh'mei raba…_

 _AUTOMATED MESSAGE: Warning: External temperature at 15,000 degrees. Deploying disaster beacon._

 _"_ _Shut it off."_

She remembered how she froze; how everyone on the bridge froze.

 _"_ _Skipper?"_

 _"_ _Shut off comms."_

Slowly the screams decreased in volume. Softer and softer, before turning silent with a final *click*.

 _"_ _We've done what we could. Take us into slipspace, random vector."_

 _"_ _It's not enough."_

 _"_ _It never is."_

Even as she heard her drive spin up, even as the bright ring of slipspace tugged at her eyes, Harvest couldn't tear her eyes away from the planet. A green and brown jewel. A jewel on which angry red lines blossomed like scars. All unnervingly silent as she slid into slipspace. Running away, away, falling—

Wait. Falling?

"Oof!" Picking herself off the floor, Harvest realized she had slid off a couch. Untangling herself from a blanket, she noticed the light peeking through a door. Creeping towards the door, she was rewarded with a glimpse of Nagato sitting at a desk, working at what appeared to be an early terminal station.

Deciding to leave the battleship be, Harvest snuck away through a different door, through which she could smell salt air. She blinked in surprise. _When did it turn dark?_

"Must've been out a while," she murmured to herself, walking across a short path and setting herself down on a small ledge overlooking the bay.

 _Twenty twenty-five._ _It's 2025. Five hundred years before the Covenant attack Harvest._ Harvest shook her head, imagining the possibilities. She could warn them, tell everyone about the Covenant. Give humanity time to prepare! Make sure the Covenant found Harvest not a vulnerable colony world but a fortress bristling with Super MACs! Maybe _that'll_ make them think twice—

Harvest suddenly stopped, the logical AI-driven side of her brain coming back into full effect. So what if she told everyone about the Covenant—it was _five hundred years_ in the future. They'd just think "oh, plenty of time" and forget about it. Or worse, what if they _did_ take that into mind and build Super MACs everywhere? Before the Covenant (and even during the Covenant, to an extent), the major threat to the UNSC had been colonial insurrection. Just a few Super MACs could deny approach to a planet for a while; what if one or several was taken over? The insurrection had seen hard fighting on the ground; capturing a Super MAC would make the Innies a danger in space, too.

Harvest frowned to herself, wondering just where this knowledge came from. A ping to her AI revealed it was just as clueless as she was, and none of her crew had enlisted before the Covenant, but somehow Harvest found herself with memories…bloody terrorism, brutal repression, something about kidnapping children…

 _I'll ponder that another time_ , she thought, pushing those memories aside. She leaned back, looking up into the sky, watching the stars. She smiled. _I wonder if any of them are familiar_.

* * *

If someone were to ask USS Yorktown where she was, she might sluggishly reply, "Bumfuck, Pacific." Of course, she—or at least, her navigator—really did know her location exactly, but she'd have to work a bit to avoid giving the snarky answer.

What seemed like ages but in fact was about a month ago, she and her task group had started out from Los Angeles escorting a convoy carrying this, that, and all the other stuff to Japan. Initially little sis had volunteered to escort the convoy, but then the Navy had started summoning scores of escort carriers after Hawaii had been seized. Like pulling an ace out of a fighter squadron to teach flight school during the war, Enterprise had been pulled from convoy duty to teach, and so Yorktown was the lucky one to go to Japan.

"I'm living vicariously through you," Enterprise had said when she saw the convoy off. "Don't fuck up."

Faking a gong noise as best she could, Yorktown clapped her hands together and bowed low. Enterprise snorted. Standing up again, Yorktown said loudly, "I shall make you proud, Little E!" Enterprise's deep blush coupled with the intense whispers from some of the late-war and escort carriers in Enterprise's class made Yorktown grin. "See you later, sis," Yorktown said, embracing her sister. "I'll let you know when I get there."

"Take care," Enterprise said, returning it. The entire way out of the bay Yorktown had a Cheshire grin on her face, drawing some odd looks from the cruisers and destroyer in her escort group, but a scream of horror and pure, unadulterated rage echoing from the pier made Yorktown break down laughing. _One of the trainees must've actually had the gall to call her "Little E"_ , she thought happily. _Not even God can save you after pulling a stunt_ that _stupid, but I sure do appreciate it!_

Yorktown appreciated that memory quite often in the month since; traveling very slow with the same few ships tended to exhaust the novelty very quickly. Sure they'd met up with ship girls from Australia, Britain, and now China on her trek round the Pacific, but they'd always be so focused on "super-serious convoy making super-serious trek to Japan" that they'd be all business. Sure Yorktown knew this stuff was important, but she didn't see why the others couldn't do their job and have a little fun doing it.

Hammann pulled up alongside. "Oi, Skippy, Sara wants to talk to you." Yorktown smiled as she took the phone. Other navies were often astonished at the sheer informality permitted by American ship girls, but it took different forms. Early war carriers were extremely informal with each other, and longtime escorts were often given great leeway by those they had escorted. Yorkten (as Yorktown had nicknamed her Essex-class replacement) would never dream of calling Enterprise "Little E", and Yorktown would come down hard on almost any destroyer other than Hammann shortening "Skipper" to "Skippy".

Thus Yorktown ignored the looks shared by some of the Chinese ship girls when she picked up the phone and said, "Hey, Sara, have your surfing lessons paid off yet?"

"Funny, Yorktown," Saratoga replied. The fact that Saratoga called her "Yorktown" rather than "York" (or, after she'd had a few that one time, "Yorky") said this wasn't a social call. "Listen, Nagato is going to put you and your girls up for a few days to catch some rest."

"I'm sure they'll be glad to hear the news," Yorktown said, both knowing they would be staying a bit anyway while all the cargo was unloaded. "Anything else you need me to do while I'm there?"

"The Japanese say they've found a new ship girl out in the Abyssal territories." _Found?_ "We want you to look on her a bit. She goes by the name 'UNSC Harvest'…"


	4. Chapter 4: Memoria Est Canicula

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

Thanks to everyone who has read my work so far! I currently have a bit of a backlog, which is why I am updating so fast. As always, comments, criticism, suggestions etc. are welcome. Thanks again for reading, and on with the show!

* * *

UNSC Harvest sighed contently as sunlight slowly banished away the night. Even though the rising sun made it more difficult to see the stars visually, she was still able to spot quite a few from her travels. She gave the sky one more look, as though to reassure her that her sight was actually true.

 _Harvest…Arcadia…New Harmony…Jericho…and last but certainly not least_ , she thought with a smile, _Epsilon Eridani II. Reach._ Harvest collated her observations, determined her single point of reference, and for what must have been the fifth time that night, confirmed her location: Earth.

Frigates such as herself had little business traveling to humanity's homeworld. Earth and the other Sol colonies were the heart of the United Nations Space Command, but Reach was its brain. Epsilon Eridani II was the gateway to Sol in more ways than one: each theater of the war had its own forward base (Jericho, in _Harvest_ 's case). Each forward base filtered back to Reach, but only through Reach did most things travel back to Sol. Even so, other than shipments of raw materials to feed the Sol capital shipyards, travel to the home planet of humanity was rather rare; the only traffic to make the journey were capital ships carrying one admiral or another…or an ONI ship.

Reach was the farthest into the Inner Colonies Harvest had ever been, and even then the only reason she was so far back was that she was constructed there. For a frigate like Harvest, deployment to Sol meant they were destined for a mission of incredible importance…or that Humanity was truly on the ragged edge of extinction.

Shaking her head to clear away that unwelcome thought, Harvest found herself perplexed as to why this view of the galaxy seemed familiar, as though she'd seen it before from this angle. Hazy memories started to seep into her mind: some mission no-one could talk about, an eye atop a triangle, _Something called 'Orion'?_ Harvest's brow furrowed; these memories were not hers; that she was sure of. So where were they coming from?

Even as Nagato came to fetch her, even as the battleship deposited her in a small meeting room beside her office and left to go greet some sort of supply shipment, Harvest's mind stayed many years in the future.

* * *

"She's right this way," Nagato said, gesturing towards her office. "Would you like to talk to her now?"

"Just for a little bit," the American carrier responded tiredly. USS Yorktown slung her firearm over her shoulder and wiped her hands on her old-fashioned blue coat. "Just want to establish a basis, get a first impression. If it becomes necessary I can grab a snack while we wait for an intel spook to arrive." Nagato nodded, and with a gesture the two capital ships started making their way from the docks towards Nagato's office.

The American carrier drew looks from several passing kanmusu, not that Yorktown paid them much heed. Nagato could understand their interest, however, for the American was an unusual sight. Unlike Japanese carriers which resembled Kyudo archers and Royal Navy carriers which resembled longbow archers, American aircraft carriers were clothed and equipped similarly to American infantrymen of the 18th and 19th Centuries. Yorktown in particular wore a red-trimmed blue coat atop a white dress in the style of the late-Revolution Continental Army, befitting her historical namesake and similar in theme to the other pre-war US carriers. A pouch slung to her side carried preloaded plane loads for the flintlock musket slung over her shoulder, allowing Yorktown to launch different variations of squadrons depending on need. Topping off the ensemble was a black tricorn cap with a patch depicting her historical insignia, a cannon in the talons of an eagle. All in all, the sight was certainly an exotic one for a Japanese kanmusu base, and Yorktown left many turned heads in her wake.

The American turned so many heads, in fact, that Nagato could not help but tease her visitor a bit. "Seems like you're quite the popular sight."

Yorktown shrugged. "If they think I'm exotic, they should see Lex in her deerskins. Though I admit I'm probably more of a sight than the Essexes." No one quite knew if it was because of wartime standardization or sisterly similarity, but every single Essex-class summoned had appeared in the same federal-blue coat of the American Civil War, the number stitched into the top the cap often the only indicator clothes-wise that a new ship had appeared, rather than a clone of one already summoned. Though each Essex was quick to apply their own personal touches to their uniform, nothing announced an American presence more than a line of kanmusu firing planes colored the same dark blue worn by their home ships.

Fashion and costume companies, needless to say, had a field day.

The two kanmusu took a brief detour by Akashi's workshop to look over Harvest's equipment. The repair ship hadn't been able to analyze the newcomer's rig yet—repairs to Tenryuu's equipment, still not yet completed, had kept her up late into the night—but Yorktown did note what looked like a motto etched into Harvest's weapon. It wasn't in a language Nagato understood, but Yorktown smiled and said she'd tell the battleship later.

Harvest stood as the two kanmusu walked into the small room. "UNSC Harvest, this is the aircraft carrier USS Yorktown," Nagato introduced. "USS Yorktown, UNSC Harvest."

"Pleasure to meet you, Harvest," Yorktown shook the frigates' hand before gesturing for them all to sit. "Don't take this the wrong way, but your arrival has caused quite a stir."

The frigate's mouth formed a knowing smile. "I bet it has."

"If you don't mind me asking," Yorktown started, "what does 'UNSC' stand for?"

Nagato knew that in hundreds of years she never would have asked a question like that; it simply was not the Japanese way. Rumors would abound, discussions would be had, but a direct confrontation or inquiry was simply unthinkable in Japanese culture. For an American, it was literally at the top of the list.

But Nagato was yanked out of her cultural musings by the response: "United Nations Space Command."

"United…"

"Nations…"

"Space Command?" Nagato and Yorktown finished together. They looked at each other, and Nagato fully expected her own face matched the bewildered look on Yorktown exactly. The two kanmusu turned and looked back at Harvest, who looked upon their reactions with a grin.

"Do you need a moment to collect yourselves, or would you like to try to make it through the short version first?"

* * *

The two capital ships made it about a half hour before Yorktown called a time-out. Harvest sympathized (though a grin split her face in spite of her best efforts to keep it straight) and as Nagato and Yorktown filed out the door the frigate beckoned them to 'take as much time as they needed'. Yorktown recovered long enough to duck her head back around the half-closed door to commend the frigate on her choice of motto before finishing the action. As she closed the door behind her, the American carrier missed the look of surprise followed by deep thought that came across Harvest's face.

Together in Nagato's office, Yorktown removed her hat and ran a hand through her hair. "I…She…We…" After several false starts she sighed. "Naval Intelligence is going to flip."

Nagato nodded. In the early days of the Abyssal threat, most intelligence services—Japan included—had focused on the threats on their own doorstep. The American Office of Naval Intelligence, however, had taken a wider view, bringing together and spreading ideas from fellow intelligence agencies across the world. The open cooperation by ONI and its positive reception from navies across the planet paved the way for kanmusu to adopt a world-wide strategy, ensuring that even the smallest kanmusu force fought with the combined knowledge of the world.

"Several of your experts are actually in Tokyo at the moment," Nagato mused. "I can contact the home office and ask them to send someone our way." The meeting of several ONI experts with the JMSDF high command had been the stated reason the Admiral of Yokosuka left the base to Nagato. _Along with him being a lazy bum_ , her mind amended.

"That would be for the best," Yorktown agreed, slumping down into a chair and rubbing her eyes. Nagato picked up her office phone and started dialing.

* * *

 _My motto?_ Harvest mused as her debriefers left the room. _What motto—_ The light frigate halted mid-sentence, her eyes widening. During her construction, builders happened across a name plate in the Azod Ship-breaking Yards on Reach: " _Repensum Est Canicula_ "—"Payback is a Bitch." It was a lofty title, in many ways one far too lofty for a mere frigate, but the workers had thought it a fitting motto for a ship named after the first planet lost to the Covenant. Her new captain, a man who had been a history professor before the Covenant killed his wife and daughter, agreed. And so as a frigate drifted out of the orbital frigate yards with "UNSC _Harvest_ " emblazoned on her side, another inscription separate from her designation "FFG(L)-413" lay below her MAC: " _Repensum Est Canicula_."

But as Harvest thought about her motto, thought it over and over in her mind, she suddenly attached something to the phrase. The result floated softly out of her mouth: "UNSC _Repensum Est Canicula_."

And then came a torrent of hidden memories.

A Prowler, assigned to Office of Naval Intelligence, Section III. A threat, not from without but within: terrorists, bombs, insurrectionists. Operations and reprisals attempting to stem the violence failing, backfiring, only spreading the rot and discontent. A desperate search for something, anything, to stop the carnage.

A large flash-cloning machine, for a purpose neither Repensum nor her crew needed or wanted to know. Children, scared and often crying, loaded into the cargo bay to be spirited directly to Reach. Her crew reassuring their ship—reassuring themselves—that this was for the best; that maybe the sacrifice of just a few could ensure peace for the many.

Rumors of assassins in the dark, rumors of supersoldiers, rumors of real progress at last towards an end to the endless cycle of violence.

Rumors of a first contact. Rumors of a battle. Rumors of war.

On Harvest.

Forcing the waves of memories to finally subside before they'd overwhelm her, UNSC Harvest wracked her brain. Why did she have the memories of an ONI Prowler? Where had she come from? How had Harvest wound up with some of her parts? The only clue Harvest had to go on was a consistent phrase the memories kept repeating: "if only I had known."

 _If only I had known what?_ Harvest thought. To her surprise, something answered. _Never trust the Admiral. Never trust ONI. Never obey the Queen Bitch._

 _Queen Bitch?_

 _Parangosky._

The sound of the door suddenly brought Harvest's attention back to the room, and she looked up to see Nagato and Yorktown re-entering the room, accompanied by a third women in some sort of blue camouflage uniform.

* * *

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Yorktown said as she opened the door. "Hope you haven't been too bored."

"It's fine," Harvest responded as Nagato walked in. "Just doing some thinking." Nagato studied the frigate's face; it was evident that whatever Harvest thought of was far more than 'just some thinking'. But Nagato didn't get a chance to ask before a third woman walked into the room, wearing the distinctive blue-hued camouflage of the United States Navy.

Reaching a hand across the table, the third women introduced herself. "Lieutenant Jane Harper, Office of Naval Intelligence. Mind if I ask you a few questions as well?"

The reaction happened faster than one could blink, but Nagato managed to see it. For a split second, emotions warred for control of Harvest's face: shock, rage, and utter and complete horror all made themselves known before an impenetrable mask covered everything, her expression slamming closed so fast Nagato flinched as though a door had slammed shut in her face. "That depends," Harvest said icily. "Why the hell should I trust you?"

All three women blinked at _that_ response. "I- The Admiral just ordered me down here to talk to you," Harper stammered hurriedly. "The circumstances—"

"The _Admiral_ can go fuck herself, 'cause it will be Hell on Earth before I trust anyone answering to ONI's Queen Bitch." Harvest snarled. "So why don't _you_ go take a long walk off a short pier, and I'm going to go get some stuff in case you even _think_ of taking me by force." With that said she stomped around the table (Harper fearfully rounding the table to keep it between the frigate and her), shoulder-checked Nagato, and stormed out the door.

The two open-mouthed kanmusu blinked in confusion, before turning to each other, then glancing back at the poor intelligence analyst still cowering in the corner, then back at each other, before their voice finally started to return.

"Wha- What was… What happened…" Nagato started.

Yorktown just shook her head, speechless.

* * *

 _What the hell did I just do? That came out of fucking_ nowhere _!_ Harvest berated herself mentally as she made her way back towards the cafeteria.

 _No!_ A part of her answered the rest. _Never! I trusted Parangosky once, and my entire crew paid the price. Never again! Never trust ONI!_

 _Parangosky's not_ here _! She won't be here for another five hundred years! What the hell am I doing_ —

 _Good! Maybe we can get the word out and smother her in her crib!_

So engrossed was Harvest in her mental battle that she walked into the cafeteria, grabbed herself a tray, and piled food atop in completely on autopilot. It was not until she sat down and started eating did her brain stop squabbling long enough to analyze its predicament.

 _Well, I've probably royally burnt any bridges I could find here_ , she thought ruefully. _Guess I better try to stock up as best I can for when they inevitably throw me out._

As Harvest started eating, she let her attention encompass the other ships in the cafeteria. It appeared as though Harvest had walked in right during one of the major meal times, because the cafeteria was rather full. Harvest found herself surprised that she was even able to locate a table all to her own while she was on autopilot.

"That shitty admiral! Just what does he think he's trying to do?!"

Harvest could not help but smile a bit. English was the official language of the UNSC; it was spoken at all levels, and so Harvest had found a language barrier between herself and the ships that saved her. A smart A.I. would probably have noticed in the middle of her battle against snakebitch the previous day that eyepatch and her friends spoke Japanese, and devised a language program to accommodate. But Harvest, being neither a capital ship nor one of the major ground support ships like a Charon, made due with a dumb A.I. instead. And though dumb A.I.s could do everything a hyper-advanced computer could do—a hell of a lot—dumb A.I.s certainly could not think too creatively or outside-the-box. They were made for rote memorization, not improvisation.

But that meant that once Harvest realized she was in Japan the previous day, her dumb A.I. easily whipped up a translation program, Harvest's dead faint regardless. Now she finally got to try it out, and sure enough its first use found another ship complaining about her admiral.

Thinking it the chance to make a new friend, Harvest turned around. "What is he doing?"

To Harvest's surprise, the question was met with groans from many of the girls seated at the table. "Why'd you have to go and get her started?" One moaned at Harvest in despair. "Now she'll _never_ shut up."

"He's a pervert, that's what!" The complainer griped out, regardless of her peers' disdain for her complaints. "I saw him hitting on Shoukaku-san earlier. He should really just learn his place!"

Harvest blinked, then frowned. She thought she'd found a kindred spirit; in fact she'd just stumbled on a squeaky wheel. "You made it sound like he was actually doing something bad. If you're really that jealous then complaining and cussing him out isn't going to help your cause."

The second statement caused quite a few reactions the next table over. Several burst out laughing, while the rest desperately tried to bury their snickers and failed miserably. The complainer's mouth hung open a moment as her face turned a shade of dark red, before she suddenly went on the attack against Harvest. "What's it to you, asshole? How the hell do you know how shitty our admiral is?"

"Because I _know_ what a shitty admiral is really like," Harvest shot back, "and let me assure you yours doesn't even scratch the surface."

"Oh yeah? Then what's a shitty admiral _really_ like, know-it-all?"

 _Takes one to know one_ , Harvest wanted to retort, but instead she held her peace as the ex-ONI Prowler came to the fore. "A truly shitty admiral, _my_ shitty admiral, had my entire crew murdered to cover up the fact she was sending children on suicide missions."

All noise from the other table halted abruptly. Harvest turned back to her meal, but after staring at it for a minute came to the conclusion she wasn't hungry after all. Studiously ignoring the looks and oppressive silence from the table next to hers, Harvest picked up her tray, discarded the excess food, and made her way out of the mess hall.


	5. Chapter 5: If at First You Don't Succeed

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection

* * *

Harvest didn't know how long she walked, how far or even where. Her attention was pointed solely down at her feet. All she knew was that she walked for a while after leaving the cafeteria, her mind fixated on the last few hours.

Intellectually, she knew snapping at the intel spook had been a bad idea, but every time she thought of going back and apologizing a big part of her mind reared up in rebellion. As parts of her brain argued about ONI, about protocol, about humanity, and even about courtesy, the larger whole came to the reluctant conclusion that perhaps bridges here were burnt after all.

Perhaps she should run away? Go to somewhere else on this planet where help is needed? Maybe five centuries in the past Earth wouldn't have the technology to get word out about what she did here. Maybe she should just go and hide in orbit; with a war down here, Harvest doubted they'd spot her any time soon.

But the words " _run away_ " always raised Harvest's hackles. After all, most of Harvest's combat experience involved running away. Light frigates were considered chump change in fleet battles: with only one MAC, one Shiva, and some Archer pods, Stalwart and Charon-class frigates were practically flies to be swatted by Covenant ships. For the FFG(L)s to be pulled from ground support and sent upstairs was a sign that Fleet could no longer hold then enemy back. UNSC _Harvest_ had seen eight months of service, had supported troops on three planets, and her one and only experience of space combat had seen her score one enemy cruiser with a lucky MAC shot through its slipspace drive. The saddest part of a service record like that, Harvest knew, was that it was actually far _better_ than most Stalwarts could hope for.

"Hey kiddo, why the long face?"

Harvest jumped; her attention shot up, and she realized she had made her way to what looked like a repair facility. And there, sitting by what looked like a bath, was Eyepatch.

"Sorry, still can't understand me, right?"

"I can, actually," Harvest replied. Eyepatch tilted her head. "Just was…a bit rusty on the language. Took me a bit to remember it."

Eyepatch raised an eyebrow, but then shrugged. "Well, now that you understand Japanese, let me thank you very much for saving me back there. My sister would have killed me if I died."

Harvest blinked at the last statement, then began to chuckle, which grew and grew and grew. "Can't let that happen," is what she tried to say, but it came out more like unintelligible laughter. Before she knew it Harvest was trying to pick herself off the floor as her body kept trying to descend into giggles. "Thank you, for that," she finally managed to force out.

"No problem," Eyepatch responded with a smile, her cheeks reddening slightly. She held out her right hand. "Name's Tenryuu."

Harvest shook it. "UNSC Harvest," she replied, "Stands for United Nations Space Command."

"'Space Command'? Sounds like something out of a comic book or something. What are you doing here?"

"Would you believe I was dumb enough that I killed an enemy ship close enough to be caught in its explosion?"

"Fufufu… Just means you got close enough to see the whites of their eyes." Harvest smiled, reminding herself that Tenryuu was crazy enough to take on snakebitch with a sword. "Why didn't you just shoot him? That fuckoff-gun of yours is pretty damn powerful."

Harvest's face fell. "It really isn't, actually," she trailed off in a small voice. Harvest looked down at the water of the pool, letting her mind lose itself in the swirls of the water jets.

Tenryuu sighed. "C'mon kid, out with it." Harvest looked up in surprise. "Don't give me that look. I can tell something's eating you up. I may be absolute shit at that psycho-stuff, but I can tell when someone needs to talk."

Harvest sighed. She collected her thoughts together, and after a couple false starts, finally managed to get started. "Have you ever fought a war, where your own side does horrible, horrible things, but you fight for them anyway because the enemy just wants to kill you all?"

To her surprise, Tenryuu answered in the affirmative. "During our first war, the Pacific War. World War Two. Our side committed horrible crimes, crimes that made us ashamed to be Japanese. But we were fighting an enemy who swore our language would be only spoken in Hell by the time they were through. And though it didn't end quite as direly as they threatened, we were definitely trapped between our own prideful government and the United States."

Harvest nodded. She looked back into the swirling bath water, her mouth speaking almost of its own accord. "They made first contact in the year 2525. Over one of our outermost planets, named Harvest. My namesake.

"They called themselves the Covenant, a religious collection of several alien races. I don't think anyone knows what they wanted—what they want from us, but everyone knows how it all started. Everyone knows the one and only sentence they ever said to us: 'Your destruction is the will of the Gods, and we are their instrument.'"

After a small silence, Harvest continued in a small voice, "That was over twenty years ago. We've been fighting ever since."

Harvest watched the swirling water, working up the courage to say more, say what she knew she needed to get out. Tenryuu seemed content to wait patiently. Finally, Harvest was able to continue. "We fight back, of course. We fight as much as we can. On the ground we can match them, even drive them back, but in space…" She gulped, feeling her mouth dry up. "They have plasma, we have MACs. Their shields bounce MAC shots, our armor melts to plasma. And so we keep losing, keep retreating, keep running away."

"Harvest," Tenryuu said gently, "I say this with all due respect, but as horrible as that is, you and I both know that's not why you wandered aimlessly into the dock a bit ago."

Harvest looked up in surprise, then slowly nodded. "Tenryuu," she said slowly, "what does the term 'ONI' mean to you?"

Tenryuu gave Harvest a sidelong glance. "Demon. Or at least that's what 'oni' means in Japanese."

A surprised laugh floated out of the frigate. "You have no idea how appropriate that is."

Tenryuu smiled, before continuing, "But I also know the Americans have an intelligence service called that. Nagato talks about it sometimes, mostly complaining how their briefings allow the Admiral a chance to dump his work on her and skip out on his duties. Why do you ask?"

"There's a service named ONI in my time too—the Office of Naval Intelligence," Harvest said hesitantly, "and though intelligence is one of their jobs they do lots of other things too. At times they're almost like a secret police."

"Like the _Kempeitai_ ," Tenryuu cut in. At Harvest's look of surprise, she continued, "technically the military police, but they had evolved into more of a secret police by the later years of the empire. I remember how guarded and wary people became at even the mention of them."

Harvest nodded. "Same with people in my time and ONI. And I guess my story was so fantastic, Nagato wanted to call in some people to talk to me—"

"Including the American intelligence people," Tenryuu caught on. Harvest nodded. Tenryuu smiled and shook her head. "So you freaked out." It wasn't a question.

"I basically terrorized some poor intel officer, shoved Nagato out of the way, and stormed out," Harvest summarized. "Yeah, I freaked out alright."

"You shoved Nagato?" Tenryuu fought a losing battle to keep a smirk off her face. "You shoved a _battleship_? I guess that makes sense if you're a fucking _spaceship_ , but still."

"I'm glad you find it funny," Harvest grumbled, "but I kind of burnt a few bridges here."

"Hardly," Tenryuu interjected. "Just go back and apologize." She didn't fight to keep a smirk off her face this time. "So first contact hit a speed bump, it's far from the worst that could happen, and easy to fix."

"You did that on purpose," Harvest grumbled petulantly. "And in any case, I'm not sure it will be that easy."

Tenryuu's grin did not deny the first charge, and to the second, "Fufufu… You scared?" Harvest crossed her arms and pouted. "Come on, I'll go with you; it's about time for me to get back to duty anyway. Can you grab me that towel over there?"

Harvest fetched the towel and brought it back as Tenryuu hoisted herself out of the bath. Tenryuu raised an eyebrow as Harvest handed it to her, in contrast to many westerners' prudishness regarding nudity. "Are you familiar with communal baths?" she asked as she toweled off.

"No; we exclusively have showers on board," Harvest answered. But understanding what Tenryuu was really asking, she continued, "But our crews use cryogenic stasis for long journeys, and going into it while clothed results in bad blisters and burns regardless of sex." The frigate shrugged. "The novelty wears off after a while." Tenryuu raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't respond.

* * *

The aircraft carrier Saratoga sighed heavily and rubbed her temples. There were plenty of things she enjoyed about her new human form—the sight of a sunset across the California sky, the smell of the sea air, the feel of cloth and fabric on her skin—but at the same time there were some parts that Saratoga could have done without. And one thing she'd file in the latter category without hesitation was the headaches she was occasionally afflicted with.

"So let me get this straight," Saratoga growled, "she was cooperating fine, then you up and left her for an indeterminate amount of time, and by the time you came back her disposition had shifted so completely that she stormed out, and now you can't find her." She glared at the video conference screen, which showed Yorktown standing at a parade rest perfect enough to satisfy the most demanding drill instructor—or Yorktown's little sister, who amounted to much the same thing. Nagato stood to the side and slightly behind the American carrier, and the poor analyst the new girl had unloaded on had done her best to hide in the very back until Saratoga had shown mercy by allowing her to return to her briefings in Tokyo.

"I judged the matter to be sufficiently above my grade to warrant the inclusion of Naval Intelligence personnel," Yorktown responded evenly. Though by no means the first time Yorktown had been dressed down—nor by any means the last time she would be, either—the indignation burning in Yorktown's eyes was easy to see. Saratoga had been the commandant of Ship Girl Base, San Diego for long enough to recognize the difference from the amused defiance Yorktown usually radiated when one of her pranks landed her in front of the brass. Unfortunately for her fellow carrier, Saratoga currently could not bring herself to care.

"And what of her allegiance? Her weaponry? Hell, _anything_ I asked you to look into?" Saratoga paused her rant to gratefully accept a rating's offer of aspirin, dry-swallowing the pills before continuing, "Tell me you at least know _something_."

"I know that UNSC stands for 'United Nations Space Command,'" Yorktown replied. "She was telling us about its structure when we made the call."

"United Nations _Space Command_?" Saratoga asked incredulously. "You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?" Aside from the silly name, Saratoga reluctantly acknowledged the UN was for many intents and purposes dead, or at very least dormant due to the Abyssal threat. No one was willing to sponsor UN efforts overseas with their own coastlines under threat, and with the crash in international shipping aviation fuel was suddenly both much more difficult to obtain and much too valuable to spend shuttling diplomats to New York. As much as Saratoga hated to admit it, the Abyssals had put paid to Roosevelt's pet project much like World War Two had done to Wilson's.

"We expressed as much to her; she claimed she's from the future," Yorktown replied. "That's when I decided to call in ONI."

"She's from the future and you didn't even think to ask about the Abyssals? About what threats may loom yet unseen over the horizon? She's a spaceship, right? Can she fly? Did you even ask?" Yorktown just impassively met Saratoga's glare at the rapid-fire questions; she didn't have the answers and they both knew it. By now this was just Saratoga letting off steam. She rubbed her temples again, wishing the pills would work faster.

"If I may interject," Nagato cruised into the conversation, "She seemed fine until the analyst from ONI introduced herself. Perhaps she has some history with the agency we don't know about?"

"Agreed," Yorktown interjected. "The presence of an analyst seemed to be what set off the episode. Perhaps in the future we should leave interviewing her to the Fleet rather than ONI."

Saratoga's gesture could roughly be translated as _What the Hell_. "This isn't like the CIA or something; ONI is _part of_ the Navy. For that matter, aside from us ship girls, Naval Intelligence has some of the most qualified analysts in the world when it comes to the Abyssals. And in any case all that is dependent on you somehow finding this girl and getting her back behind a table."

Yorktown's glare said her piece on the last bit of snark, but her reply ignored it. "So we ship girls will interview her ourselves and keep the secret squirrels in the loop. Or if ONI wants to be more directly involved they can ask a ship girl to front for them."

Saratoga's grin was all sharp teeth. "I know of one they might approach; a certain aircraft carrier who has been worried all month over the safety of her big sister, and who would be mighty angry to find that said sister has been too busy talking to spaceship visitors from the future to call and say she's arrived in one piece."

Yorktown winced. It was an open secret in the U.S. Ship Girl Corps that Enterprise was constantly obsessed over the safety of her sisters. On the one hand her history made it understandable—Yorktown had assured Enterprise she'd meet them back at Pearl after Midway, and Northampton had to knock Enterprise out to get her to leave Hornet at Santa Cruz, but on the other hand Saratoga admitted Enterprise's concern could flirt with obsession at times.

The wartime memory of Enterprise crying herself to sleep, clutching the picture the three sisters took together before Midway, though…

Nagato's assistant cruiser ducked her head into the conference room and called for her. As the battleship walked out the door, Saratoga looked back up at Yorktown. "Look, just find out what you can and get back to me. And call your sister before she breaks down my door." Yorktown, recognizing the call was coming to a close, came to attention and saluted. Saratoga returned it just before the rating cut the signal.

Saratoga sat down at a chair in the back of the room and rubbed her eyes. Times like these she really wished she had a drink. She was certain there was a still _somewhere_ on base, but as commandant she really couldn't partake even if she did know where it was.

Saratoga sighed again. More's the pity.

* * *

Yorktown shivered as Saratoga cut the line. Don't get her wrong, she loved her sister more than anything, but Enterprise was _scary_ when she let her emotions get the better of her. Some of the Japanese ships—or some of the anime-obsessed American ones—might have suggested the term 'yandere', but that didn't…quite…fit. Enterprise never got murderous (though the Abyssals and some of the Japanese might disagree), but her quiet rage was something to behold—preferably from a distance.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she opened the door to the conference room and walked out…just in time to see the strange ship girl that had started this hoopla in the first place.

"—but I really do want to help," Harvest was saying. "So I ask that you forgive me my behavior, and I'll be willing to assist in any way that I can."

Yorktown blinked. "We're more than happy to have your assistance," she started, drawing the room's attention to her. "But if I may—if only to prevent something like that from happening again—may I ask what happened?"

Harvest took a deep breath, and said, "Let's just say…the spooks give me the spooks." She smiled sheepishly at her own wordplay.

Nagato pursed her lips. "How…"

Another ship, one Yorktown recognized as a Tenryuu-class cruiser, whispered to Nagato. " _Kempeitai_." Though Yorktown didn't know what meant, Nagato's paling face and rapid nod said that she did.

The American decided to skirt around to a different issue. "We're grateful for anything you can provide, though understand the United Nations is not quite the power now that it must be in your time. Will you be alright following orders from those not necessarily in your command?"

Harvest pondered the question for a few moments. "At the heart of the charter of the United Nations Space Command is an oath to preserve, protect, and defend Earth and all her colonies." She smiled. "There may yet be neither colonies nor a United Earth Government, but this is still Earth, and I am still sworn to her defense. I see no conflict."

As Harvest stood at attention and saluted, Yorktown smiled. Inside, however, one thought predominated above all: _Oh boy, here we go._


	6. Chapter 6: Try, Try Again

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

Repair ship Akashi was having a very frustrating day. First she tried to stay up all night to fix Tenryuu's trashed equipment, only to fall asleep at her work station. Instead of waking her like she'd asked them to, her repair fairies seemed content to let her sleep until Ooyodo walked in this morning! How unprofessional can you be getting woken up by your boss?! And when she confronted them about it, they just grinned back at her. Bastards.

Two more hours of work had finally seen Tenryuu's rig able to at least stay in one piece, so Akashi decided to take a break and look at that weird rig from the kanmusu they found yesterday. She tried to pick it up to carry it into the workshop only to remember the hard way it took her, Ooyodo, and the battleship Nagato working together to get it onto the cart yesterday. If only she had remembered that before her efforts made the rig fall off the damn cart. Seeing no squadron of battleships available to help move the thing, Akashi had no choice but bring her tools to analyze it by the door. Because she loved nothing more than sitting on concrete to do her work.

Resigning herself to the back pain she knew was in her future, Akashi fetched her tools and set to work. Not even ten minutes later five separate drill bits—each one more than capable of cutting through a battleship's armor plate—had snapped in her hands and she wasn't sure she'd even made a dent in the damn thing. She was about to give in to the temptation to throw her arms up and put "Fucking Magic" on her report when she spotted what looked like hanger doors on the side of the rig.

Two crow bars and the assistance of four heavy cruisers later, Akashi finally had the hanger doors propped open only to run into her latest stumbling block: a group of grey-clad fairies who had formed a line to prevent Akashi from looking into anything past the hanger doors.

"I just want to see what makes this tick, alright? I won't do anything permanent, and I need to know how to fix this in case anything happens to it." The fairies were unmoved. When Akashi reached in to try and move them out of the way, the fairies linked arms. All they needed to do now was start singing "We Shall Overcome" and the image would be complete.

Just as Akashi's tired brain started to contemplate leaning in with her drill in an attempt to scare the fairies off, another fairy jumped in front of the line, this one wearing all black with an oversized helmet covering its face, carrying what looked like an oddly shaped boombox on its shoulder. _Alright, that's fucking adorable_ , Akashi thought, but then the fairy pointed the boombox at the repair cruiser. _What the_ … A small whining sound reached her ears.

"Eep!" Akashi jerked back just before a thin beam of red light stabbed through the air her head had occupied moments before. The cruiser looked behind her, taking in the still-smoking hole the light had punched through the roof of the building behind her before continuing on into the heavens. She whirled back around as she heard a whine building again, the boombox pointed straight at her.

"Hey! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" The kanmusu from yesterday appeared next to her. "Yes, you! What the hell are you doing taking the Splaser out for a spin? That thing's locked away for a _reason_." The kanmusu held out her hand to the fairy, which made the visor on its helmet see-through only to show it glaring back defiantly. "I'm going to put it back in the _armory_ where it _belongs_ —No you can't have it 'for safe keeping'! Give it here!" The kanmusu held her arm out imperiously, and the fairy slowly, reluctantly, placed the boombox in her palm before stalking away.

"Fucking Neanderthals sometimes, I swear," the kanmusu muttered, before turning back to Akashi. "Name's Harvest. Sorry about that: my troops can have an extreme definition of 'defending the ship' sometimes, but can I ask you just what you're doing with my hanger propped open?"

Harvest transitioned from friendly to conciliatory to wary suspicion so fast Akashi needed a moment for her brain to catch up. "Akashi," she replied, placing her hand on her own chest. "I'm Yokosuka's designated repair vessel; any rigs or equipment that need to be repaired or replaced come to me. As for what I'm doing," she gestured down to the rig, "I need to see what makes this equipment tick, so that I can make repairs for you if it ever gets damaged."

"Is that why you tried to drill into my reactor casing?" Harvest pointed at scratch marks on the armor.

"I wanted to take a sample, but whatever you have there—" Akashi's eyes widened. "Did you say 'reactor'?"

Harvest smiled nervously and rubbed the back of her neck. "It's run on a fusion reactor, and…well, you found where it is."

Akashi stared dumbly at the rig for a good second or two. "I was about to say whatever you have armoring this here is out of this world, but now I'm rather glad that it is…"

"'Out of this world,'" Harvest smirked. "You have no idea how right you are, but regarding the other stuff," she tapped the CnC portion of her equipment. "Cope, you online?"

"Of course." Akashi jumped as a voice floated out of the rig. "I am present as always. What do you need?"

"This is Copeland," Harvest introduced. "He's my AI and helps run the place. He's a dumb AI so he can't carry on a conversation or anything like that, but he'll help you with whatever you need."

"Is this wise, Commander?" the voice questioned, seemingly unconcerned over being called 'dumb'. "I can name several ONI General Orders that do not authorize this action…"

"ONI can go shove a Super MAC up their ass. Do as she says, Copeland." By now Akashi had given up hope for staying caught up with the conversation and was just along for the ride. "And for the record, please don't allow ODSTs into the armory again. That stuff is locked away for good reason." Harvest turned and started walking away, patting Akashi on the back as she went. "Have fun," she quipped, then she turned the corner and was gone.

Akashi stared at the corner for a couple seconds longer, then turned back towards the rig she apparently had to _talk_ to. Some days she really wished she could just sleep through. "Okay, so, Cope," she started slowly, aware enough to not try to pronounce 'L's. "Tell me about…" she gestured in the general direction of the whole rig. "This."

* * *

"Sorry about the wait," Harvest said as she stepped out into the bay. "Got a call from my equipment that someone was trying to break into it. Had to go save your repair ship from some over-eager crew members."

Nagato had no idea where to start with that statement. After a moment of deliberation over which part to ask after, she settled on, "Your…equipment can talk to you?"

"Of course," Harvest nodded. "All UNSC starships are equipped with either 'smart' or 'dumb' AIs to help run the ship. We'd hardly be able to function without them."

Nagato raised an eyebrow. All kanmusu bases arranged movie nights for their ships; it was a good stress-relief and morale raiser. But that also meant she'd seen some of the fears humans had over computers running rampant. It seemed Yorktown had the same thought. "You aren't afraid of these AIs turning on you or anything?" she asked.

Harvest shrugged. "Dumb AIs, like the one I have, are pretty stable. Smart AIs only last about seven years or so before they start to go bad. But that really hasn't been too much of a problem."

"How come?"

"It requires a ship last seven years without being destroyed."

Nagato had no idea what to say to something like _that_. A glance at Yorktown showed her the American ship was just as flummoxed. After a couple of attempts, Nagato decided to just change the subject. "So you're a spaceship; are you capable of flying in atmosphere?"

"Are you asking if I can fly above and provide fire support?" Nagato and Yorktown both nodded. Harvest smiled. "That's what I was _built_ to do. We Stalwart and Charon light frigates were made to provide what we called 'ortillery'—orbital artillery—to support troops fighting on the ground."

"Does that mean that you carry ground troops as well?" Yorktown asked.

"We certainly can, and typically going to a warzone I would," Harvest replied. Nagato and Yorktown shared a look; if this was how _ships_ looked five hundred years in the future; what would ground troops look like? But Harvest's next statement took the wind out of those sails. "Unfortunately my…last battle was during a retreat from a warzone. I left almost all the ground troops I carried there. No tanks, no Marines. Just my contingent of ODST's."

"And those are?"

"Their full name is Orbital Drop Shock Troopers—like the name suggests, they're meant to be dropped from orbit and cause havoc, like paratroopers. Unfortunately the drop pods are single-use; I _can_ use them, but then I'd have to replenish the pods before I can deploy them again."

 _And that would use up even more supplies_ , Harvest left that unsaid, but Nagato got the unspoken message anyway. Back at the office, Harvest had confessed how much—or rather, how little—her gigantic meals had resupplied her. It was becoming more and more clear that Harvest's weapons, though incredibly powerful and able to turn the tide of any battle, were incredibly resource-intensive.

On the other hand, it didn't seem as though she consumed many resources by just moving; maybe she can just stop somewhere with supplies to spare—the United States, for example—and top off between missions. "Can you show us how you fly?"

"There are specialized chemical thrusters I use in atmosphere," Harvest responded. "My main engines are connected to my reactor; using them leaves a trail of radiation—fine in outer space, but not the best above a planet." Nagato felt her face grow pale at the prospect that this small ship was powered by a _nuclear reactor_ , but Harvest continued unbothered. "My atmospheric thrusters are basically rockets. They won't work underwater, but I should be able to jump up enough to fire them." The frigate looked up and smiled. "You might want to stand back."

The two capital ships well understood the hint and moved away. Harvest, a confident grin adorning her face, jumped about a foot above the surface of the ocean.

And then it seemed like rockets fired all over her body.

As a ship, Nagato would learn over the coming weeks, Harvest's rockets were fixed to her hull; as they never moved relative to the hull, it was easy to know which thrusters to fire to do what maneuver. As a kanmusu on the other hand, her human body meant the rockets direction was no longer fixed, but moved relative to her body as Harvest moved her arms and legs. This also meant that, as Newton's laws made clear, when Harvest fired a thruster on a limb, that limb would try to move with that thruster, forcing her to try to keep it steady so it would move her instead.

What this meant for the first demonstration was that Harvest shot into the sky before entering several uncontrolled spins, her scream coming to an abrupt halt after about five seconds of flight when Harvest performed a rocket-assisted belly flop on the ocean surface.

It took another couple of seconds before Nagato's brain caught up to what she had just witnessed. Looking to her right she beheld Yorktown bent over, her arms gripping her sides, her shoulders shuddering as she tried to hold in her laughter. Sniffing in disdain at the American, Nagato slowly approached the still-incommunicado form of the poor girl lying face down on the ocean surface. "Harvest?" she asked cautiously. "Are you alright?"

Harvest turned her—very red—face to Nagato. "I think," she said painfully, "I need…some practice."

* * *

"'Practice' basically sums up her activity during the past month or so," Yorktown summarized. "She's better able to get into orbit when she has her equipment on—I guess her AI helps or something—but then she's having trouble keeping it."

"Would that explain her sudden descent into the Mediterranean a couple weeks ago?" Saratoga looked far more relaxed than the last time Yorktown spoke to her, sitting in a chair with a steaming cup of coffee. When Yorktown nodded, Saratoga continued, "She scared the hell out of the Europeans with that stunt. They were not happy we were keeping the fact we found a future spaceship girl from them, and all the intel types back home weren't happy that we had to tell them."

"I'm sure she didn't put you in that spot on purpose," Yorktown replied. "A couple days ago she tried to land in the port of Singapore and put a hole in the harbor master station when she missed. The British are escorting her back as we speak." Saratoga closed her eyes and groaned. "One of the Japanese cruisers here, the traffic cone one that does all the singing and games on the internet, called it 'Kanmusu Space Program'." Yorktown spread her hands. "I don't get the reference."

Saratoga's shrug said she didn't get it either. "According to Hornet, anyway, she's doing alright for a crash course in orbital mechanics, so there's that."

"How the hell does Horny know orbital mechanics?"

Saratoga gave Yorktown a Look. "Not your sister, the other one."

"Oh, Hornext?" Yorktown thought for a moment. "Yeah, I guess CV-12 was involved with the space program, so that makes sense."

Saratoga pinched the bridge of her nose. "What is it with you and nicknames? You know your sister always turns red when you call her 'Horny' and CV-12 hates you claiming she's anyone's replacement."

"What does anyone have against nicknames? They're fun! I'm fine with everyone calling me 'York'; if they have a problem with it they need thicker skin." Yorktown paused and grinned. "Unless you prefer to call me 'Yorky' again."

Saratoga blushed. "I thought I made it clear never to speak of that again," she ground out.

"Why? It was cute! Unless you're embarrassed you'd let your hair down far enough to call me that…"

Saratoga's blush spread, and she dived into the only solace she could find: work. "Are the Japanese ready for the upcoming operation? I'd hoped to talk to Nagato before it kicks off."

As much as Yorktown wanted to continue ribbing her friend, she knew work took precedence. "Nagato had to go south to take Harvest from Prince of Wales, but she says the Japanese will be ready." Recognizing the need for a faster convoy route to Japan, and hoping to take out the source of Abyssal threat in the northern Pacific, Nagato and Saratoga planned a joint pincer attack against the Abyssal base in the Aleutians. Nagato had made clear the Japanese lacked the power to take it on their own, and though Saratoga had promised to clear up some forces from the United States most of the American fleet had to remain in garrison around Pearl Harbor. The difference would have to be made up by their new spaceship girl. Tenryuu said Harvest was plenty powerful, and Nagato believed her cruiser, but this would be the first major combat test for the UNSC frigate.

"In lieu of her continued difficulties with orbital stuff, Harvest is going to be sailing with the Japanese fleet for this battle. She says she's been stocking up on her missiles, point-defense guns, and that fuck-off cannon of hers," Yorktown continued. "She says she's as ready as she'll ever be."

"Good," Saratoga said. She took a sip and went on, "Our contingent just sailed this morning. They'll be continuing to Japan after the base is destroyed; ONI took us up on having a ship girl front for them."

"Alright," Yorktown nodded. "Who did you finally decide to send?"

Saratoga returned a smile a shark would be proud to sport. "A couple of carriers who should be very familiar to you. You know your sister was so disappointed that you could only spare an email to send to her, that she jumped on the ONI request with both feet. You'll have so much fun in Japan together."

Oh shit oh fuck oh doom on her. "Wha—wait, Sara, you can't—"

Saratoga waved her fingers. "Ta ta, my dear Yorky~" Before Yorktown could reply the screen changed to black, the white letters "Signal Lost" the only clue the screen was still on.

"Well, fuck."


	7. Chapter 7: Baked Alaska

Disclaimer: I still own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

Though she did her best not to show it, Nagato could feel her heart pounding in her chest anticipating the fight to come. _Here we go_ , she thought, praying the fight to come would go smoother than the previous big operation.

The last time Japan's kanmusu sortied in force like this had been for the Midway raid, and that had come far too close for comfort. CarDiv 1 had been heavily damaged—Akagi herself might have been sunk had Fubuki not downed that last Abyssal plane in the nick of time.

Nagato looked to her left at the carrier in question, who sailed along with Kaga and a new addition. Nagato had been surprised how well Akagi and Kaga seemed to get along with Yorktown, especially considering who the latter's younger sister was. In fact, listening in on the carrier's conversation revealed that was indeed who they were talking about now. _Yorktown is probably trying to reassure them Enterprise will not, in fact, hunt them down and kill them_ , Nagato thought sardonically. But over the past month, she had noticed that every time Enterprise came up in conversation, the light in Yorktown's eyes seemed to dim a little.

At first she thought it was embarrassment, but Yorktown didn't seem like the kind of person to be bothered from being overshadowed by her little sister. Finally Nagato asked Saratoga; sounding as uncomfortable as Nagato had ever heard her, Saratoga said that Yorktown was having trouble reconciling the Enterprise she remembered with the Enterprise she came back to. Upon further inquiry Saratoga stonewalled and refused to say more. Though Yorktown flatly denied anything when Nagato finally worked up the courage to ask, her body language told the opposite. _If nothing else_ , Nagato thought, _it will be very interesting seeing them reunited._

The subject of interesting things to see brought Nagato's thoughts down to the small kanmusu sailing beside her. Harvest's kept up with the rest of the force sailing into battle, but her tight grip on her weapon coupled with her stiff limbs betrayed her nervousness. She'd confided to Nagato last night that her duties as a ship never included fleet battles, and the fact that so much of the assault plan rested on her made her feel out of her league. Nagato wound up moving her futon next to the frigate's to help her sleep, and placed Kongou in charge of the battleship force so she could hang back and offer moral support. Nagato knew that one less battleship at the front, no matter how experienced, would be far less of a loss than if Harvest's nerves cracked under the (admittedly high) pressure the plan put on her.

Simply put, the UNSC frigate would make the difference between victory and defeat for the Alaska plan. In spite of the massive force Japan committed to the north, and in spite of the American and even Canadian reenforcements coming in from the east, the Abyssal bases amongst the Aleutian Islands would present a tough foe. Before Harvest's arrival, clearing the Aleutians was a task only thought possible with the entire Fast Carrier Task Force deployed against it. To ask a single frigate, no matter how powerful, to replicate the combat power provided by the Big Blue Fleet (as the FCTF was often called thanks to their distinctive Civil War uniforms) was a daunting task.

Tenryuu assured them all Harvest was more than up to the task, but Nagato knew the frigate had to be. Building up for the fight, Harvest had consumed enough food to supply several aircraft carriers; if the plan failed and the convoy following the Americans had to turn back, Nagato wasn't sure Japan could stretch its supplies long enough for the ships to take the roundabout southern route.

As she watched CarDiv 1 ready their bows and Yorktown her musket, CarDivs 2 and 5 on the horizon following suit, Nagato sighed one last time. This was it, time to do or die! She sent her last orders to her kanmusu, and steeled herself to…sit back and reassure a very nervous looking frigate.

* * *

"You all know what to do. Remember to designate any command-type Abyssal you see, and we'll take care of it. Good luck to you all, and do your best!"

Harvest gulped as Nagato spoke next to her, multiple affirmatives coming back before the girls seemed to jump into action. The archers nearby loosed arrows that turned into planes, zooming off towards the horizon to do battle. Yorktown loaded her firearm, but did not yet fire. After a moment of confusion, Harvest remembered that Yorktown's planes could not go as far as the others; she must be waiting to get into range.

A hand on her shoulder made Harvest jump. "You're doing fine, don't worry," Nagato said reassuringly. Harvest nodded, but the butterflies in her stomach remained. This was it; her first—well…first intentional—fleet battle! Back home, getting called into a fleet battle was a suicide mission, literally a call to fire all her Archers and as many MAC shots as she could before eating a plasma torpedo. Keeping an eye on her sensors, which showed several green dots converging with countless grey dots, she had to fight with all her strength against the instinct to unload everything into the nearest Abyssal. All her eating had resupplied a couple MAC shots, several hundred autocannon rounds, and a precious thirty Archers— _one_ pod worth. Her weapons officers and AI had a fun time over the past month reconfiguring her fire control to fire one Archer at a time rather than entire pods at once.

Harvest was so tightly wound, in fact, that she practically jumped when one of the grey dots suddenly changed to red. Nagato and Akashi had snatched all the laser designators they could get their hands on, jury-rigged them to some of the equipment rigs, and put Yokosuka's kanmusu through a crash course in their use. They were stupidly short-ranged—not practical at all for surface-to-orbit use—but with Harvest barely over the horizon it worked well enough.

As she prepared to fire, however, Nagato put a hand on her shoulder. "Target received, designation…?" Harvest kicked herself, remembering Nagato wanted to first confirm any target before Harvest fired at it, saving the missiles for when they were truly needed.

"Battleship hime," came back Tenryuu's voice, cannon fire filling the background. Harvest examined the red dot on her plot carefully; it seemed larger than many of the grey ones, advancing implacably as green dots swirled and maneuvered in front of it. Just as Harvest noticed the green dots were several different sizes too, Tenryuu continued, "It's tying up my force and some of the battleships too. Wanna get it out of our way?"

Nagato nodded and removed her hand from Harvest's shoulder. "R-Right!" Harvest said. "Archer on the way!" A hole opened in her rigging, the motor ignited with a flash, and the (single, to Harvest's relief) Archer shot away in a trail of smoke.

Harvest tracked her missile all the way to the target; as it impacted expressions of shock exploded over the radio. Harvest panicked. Had it not worked? Was it still alive? The dot was gone on her plot; was it camouflaging somehow? Screaming at her sensor operator to reacquire the target, the frigate stammered, "Is- Is it still there? I can send another!"

"Cruiser Tenryuu. Damage assessment."

"Fuck! What? It's dead; what more do you want?"

Harvest blinked. She called out on the radio herself, "It's dead? I really killed it? Are you sure?"

Tenryuu laughed. "It's dead alright, good work kiddo!"

At that point, if her heart determined her altitude, Harvest would be in orbit.

* * *

Tenryuu was exhausted—small surprise, considering how long she'd been fighting—but her fighting spirit was still high. They'd first made contact with the Abyssals early in the morning and it was well into the afternoon by now, but they were making good progress. The two small Abyssal bases on Attu and Kiska were history, shelled into oblivion by the Japanese battleships.

 _And now onto the main show_ , Tenryuu thought with a grin, before looking at the small figure not too far away. After seeing one missile blast a battleship princess into oblivion, the kanmusu suddenly started taking their laser designators much more seriously. Targets flooded back, almost all of which the secretary ship promptly vetoed. "The designator is for targeting and destroying Abyssal bosses," Nagato had finally admonished the fleet, "not to spare you all the effort of fighting."

Regardless of the secretary ship's efforts, it hadn't taken long for Harvest to run out of missiles. But in Tenryuu's opinion, that only made the situation better: now instead of only seeing the streak of missiles, the kanmusu across the entire battlefield were now treated to the sight, sound, and _feeling_ of the little frigate's main weapon. Tenryuu found herself grinning every time she heard and felt the ***POW*** of what she soon nicknamed the "Fuck-you gun." And though she was far too badass to let herself smile, she definitely smirked at the sight of Harvest—far from the nervous wreck she was this morning—charging ahead so fast Nagato was pushing herself to flank trying to keep up.

A sudden eruption of water drew Tenryuu's attention, and she felt time slow down as a battleship water oni emerged right in front of Harvest. Tenryuu felt her blood turn cold as horror spread across Harvest's face, the frigate throwing her legs to the side in a desperate attempt to try to shift her momentum and dodge out of the way. But it was too late; the Abyssal had emerged with her guns already trained, and with a smirk on its face the battleship oni fired into the poor kanmusu at point blank range. Without even time to scream, Harvest was covered in smoke and flame.

And then she sailed right out of it.

Surprise was now on full display on the battleship oni's face, suddenly replaced by horror as it realized it was now directly in the path of a kanmusu capable of tanking its main battery and emerging unscathed. It tried to move, but its tactic of ambushing at close range now meant it was impossible for either the Abyssal or Harvest to get out of the way. Realizing what was about to happen, both Harvest and the Abyssal started screaming at the top of their lungs.

And then one of the most powerful Abyssals ever encountered was so much roadkill.

As time sped back up again, Tenryuu suddenly became aware that every last kanmusu able to had just watched what happened, and were now staring dumbly at the frigate, who was frantically patting herself down as though unable to believe she was still alive.

It was a sentiment Tenryuu certainly shared. "Did… Did that just happen?" The meek question prompted Tenryuu to turn, taking in the sight of her destroyers huddled behind Tatsuta's skirt.

It took Tenryuu a false start before she was able to reply, "If by 'that' you mean a kanmusu literally _running over_ a battleship demon after tanking her full battery and coming away unscathed, then yes, Inazuma, that just happened."

"Heh," Akatsuki smiled, "she's about our size. Think we might be able to—"

"No," five voices answered at once. Tenryuu looked back up at Harvest, who seemed to be finally coming to terms with the fact she was not dead after all by shouting as such, the biggest smile Tenryuu had ever seen shining on her face. Nagato seemed to break out of her own stupor and advanced to check on the frigate.

"Alright," the battleship said after a short conversation. "We've still got Abyssals to destroy, so let's go!" A cheer arose from the assembled kanmusu—Harvest's voice loudly amongst them—before the force continued onwards towards the last enemy stronghold.

* * *

Yorktown sighed as she slowly approached what before the Abyssals had been known as Dutch Harbor, Alaska. The major enemy base there had been a quick affair—a combination of support from the east and incredibly high morale after seeing the spaceship pull off _that_ feat had seen the Japanese storm Dutch Harbor like something out of the war, the battleships shelling the base as the rest of the force dealt with the enemy surface vessels. Yorktown had been surprised by the fact that the previously taciturn frigate seemed to take great pleasure in running up to the Abyssals and stomping them to death, much to Nagato's dismay. But now Yorktown was coming up on the part of the plan she dreaded most: reuniting with her sister.

Don't get her wrong—Yorktown loved Enterprise with all her heart, but from the moment they reunited it was clear that Enterprise was…different. The Yorktown sisters (with the occasional addition of their half-sister Wasp, who always joked that she was "the fourth wheel that makes the car run") had been quite the trio before the war: Yorktown, the skills; Enterprise, the luck; and Hornet, the brains. Yorktown never forgot the fond memories, and had jumped at the chance to be reunited at last, looking forward to more of the fun, crazy antics the sisters pulled off in their youth. The reality did not quite match the expectation. Yorktown knew she returned as fun-loving prankster she always was. Hornet was still the brains of the trio, even if she did come back with a slight meek streak that everyone did their best to disabuse her of. But Enterprise…

The Enterprise Yorktown remembered was a Polyanna, who needed no help to look on the bright side. The Enterprise Yorktown remembered was an all-loving soul, who would listen to total strangers to make them feel better. The Enterprise Yorktown remembered smiled easily and often, often with a laugh that spread contagiously no matter how dour you were.

The Enterprise Yorktown came back to…was not the Enterprise Yorktown remembered.

She was hard, covered in a shell as stiff as armor plate, and the times Yorktown saw that shell cracked (the first time they met after returning, for example) the sheer emotion pouring out startled the elder carrier. Enterprise almost never smiled, and even when she did it was just an upturned corner of the mouth rather than the world-brightening, full-face grin Yorktown remembered. But what had the most effect on Yorktown were Enterprise's eyes, so full of joy and caring in her memories, now pools of grief and mourning. Yorktown understood Enterprise survived the war, but that didn't help the fact that any time Yorktown looked her sister in the eye, she could hear—she could feel—the pleading deep in her mind: _Please, don't go. Please, stay with me. Please, don't die again._

Yorktown hated it. She hated how her mood plummeted any time she saw her sister, and then in turn she hated herself for not wanting to spend time with her. She would tease her younger incessantly, play pranks, tell jokes; anything to get a smile or just a reaction other than sadness. She called Enterprise "Little E" precisely because seeing the embarrassment in her eyes was better than the alternative. Even if she was (understandably) the USN's go-to carrier instructor she encouraged Enterprise to get out as often as she could. It had been Yorktown that urged Enterprise to go to Japan, and when the brass intervened Yorktown begged Saratoga to go in her stead; anything to get away from the sadness, just for a while.

She hated herself for that, too.

Yorktown had read some psychology books on a sojourn to the library—apparently the thing to do these days was _talk_ about ones feelings rather than just get drunk to forget them. But Yorktown could never bring herself to go all the way, to sit Enterprise down and force her to get it all out. She and Enterprise were finally able to do so for Hornet, and Yorktown acknowledged it was a big step towards bringing Hornet out of the hole of meekness she'd dug herself into and on the road back towards the sassy know-it-all Yorktown remembered, but any time she started to do so for Enterprise she always chickened out when it came time to push. Yet another part of dealing with her sister Yorktown wasn't proud of.

Yorktown sighed deeply, before making sure her mask was on perfectly. Time to face the music. "Hey, Horny! Hey, Little E!" she called out, waving. She ignored the looks on the faces of all the Japanese ships around her.

Hornet blushed deeply and stuck out her tongue, but Enterprise just gave back one of those smile-but-not-really smiles. _Damn her._ Yorktown gave no inkling to her thoughts as she embraced her sisters, before leading them back towards Nagato—past the Japanese carriers. Akagi and Kaga tensed as the Americans grew near, but their moods devolved into confusion when Hornet and Enterprise sailed past without a second glance. Sorhyu and Hiryu went through a similar cycle.

Enterprise finally seemed to straighten as they passed the third set of aircraft carriers, her gaze sharpening. Her target, Zuikaku, straightened in response, fear flickering across her face before steeling into battle-mode, but Enterprise just pursed her lips and looked away, her body devolving back into its weary gait. Zuikaku blinked repeatedly in confusion writ large, before shifting into smugness upon catching the envy radiating from CarDiv 1.

The Americans exchanged salutes with Nagato, before looking down at the very confident frigate beaming back at them. "So," Enterprise said, "you must be her."

"Yep; UNSC Harvest. You've probably heard a lot about me!" the spaceship responded, bouncing on her heels in excitement.

"And we'll probably hear a lot more," Enterprise nodded, before looking back at the convoy approaching over the horizon. "The Canadians won't be coming with us," she said to Nagato. "They still have their patrols to run."

"Understood," Nagato responded, comfortably sticking to business. "Let us be on our way, then." They turned and started heading towards Japan.

Yorktown lagged behind a little bit, taking in the fleet reforming in the setting sun. A pretty sight to be sure, but what drew Yorktown's eyes more was the Turkey preening like a rooster, her pride a shield impenetrable to Kaga's returning scowl.

Yorktown smirked. No matter what, leave it to her to find the funny.


	8. Chapter 8: And Ever We Fight On

**A/N:** The chapter title is a reference to Enterprise's worldview as a ship girl and is also the title of her _lietmotif_. An unusual choice of music for a Halo fic, perhaps, but I feel like it fits her character.

Some review responses:

 **If I Stay** : They find out this chapter!

 **TheEliteDucky** : I prefer not to describe too much so the reader can imagine it themselves, but personally I've always seen her as a DesDiv 6-sized Miranda Keyes. Her equipment is a dark grey with white highlights.

 **Danny79** : "Best armor ever made" is certainly an unusual description to attach to a Stalwart-class. Let's just hope it doesn't go to her head...

To everyone else, thanks for the support, and let's get on with the show!

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

The figures fell into deep contemplation as the little one finished its report. _'This fantastical tale cannot be true'_ , one figure protested. _'The little one is powerful, but it is still young; it would not be beyond the little one to imagine such a ship to explain to us why the surfacers destroyed its outpost.'_

 _'_ _It is true!'_ the Little One protested, stamping its feet in a manner a surface-dweller might describe as 'cute'. _'I am no liar! I tell no tales! The surface-dwellers have a new ship, as small as their little ones but more powerful than their battleships! Or even their impersonal ships from before!'_

 _'_ _Many of its abilities seem similar to their impersonal ships'_ , a second figure mused. _'Rockets that strike with precision across the horizon; a gun that can destroy a battleship in one shot. Perhaps the surfacers have managed to give life to their impersonal ships?'_

 _'_ _Their impersonal ships struck hard, but could not survive being struck in turn'_ , the central figure spoke for the first time, hushing the discussion around it. _'I can believe the damage output to be one of the impersonal ships, but I cannot believe an impersonal ship would be able to live after being targeted by a battleship, let alone going on to_ crush _said battleship against the surface.'_ The figure shook its head. _'This is no impersonal ship made manifest. This is a new threat.'_

The first figure protested, _'Surely you don't actually believe this farce to be true—'_

 _'_ _Belief is irrelevant'_ , the central figure admonished. _'You all know as well as I do the surface-dwellers should not have had the power to overrun the Little One's outpost, and the fact that the Little One is young does not make it incompetent. Our only choice is to assume such a threat is real and plan accordingly.'_

Silence fell across the figures as they contemplated. _'If,'_ the first figure finally said, _'If such a threat is indeed real, what_ can _we do? It has already shown itself impervious to fire from our mightiest battleships. Not even the surfacers' Returned are so powerful.'_

The central figure nodded silently. _'We cannot simply lie down in the face of this threat, and if the surface-dwellers have one we must assume they plan to make more. We must find a way to counter this new surface-dwell—'_ It suddenly paused, shifting back to contemplation.

 _'_ _You have a plan,'_ the first figure said. It was not a question.

 _'_ _An idea, to be precise, but yes. We will need to track this threat's every move, and make preparations quickly and without warning the surfacers. But if it works, we may be able to bring such power down to our level…'_

* * *

Nagato felt her eyebrows rise, and a glance to the side told her that Enterprise's were doing the same. Knowing the stories of the often expressionless American carrier, the fact that Enterprise seemed surprised made her feel better about being surprised herself.

Even so, the sheer scale of what Akashi had just read to them beggared belief. "Are these numbers true?" the battleship asked.

The repair ship nodded, glancing down at her notes. "Four hundred and seventy-eight meters long, one hundred and fifty-two meters wide, and a little over one hundred and twelve meters tall. Those are the figures I got from Harvest's AI, and her own testimony backs them up."

"Four hundred seventy-eight meters? That's over fifteen hundred feet." Enterprise shook her head. "Missouri could stand on Iowa's head and she'd still be larger."

"Sixty centimeters of armor?" Nagato had her own hang-up. "That's practically the face of Yamato's turrets, and that's the uniform thickness, not an armor belt. No wonder a broadside from a battleship demon barely scorched her."

"No wonder she ran over said battleship like it was a leaf on the roadway," Enterprise agreed. "What about her weaponry?"

"According to the AI, light frigates like Harvest are lightly armed," Akashi responded dryly; she'd had her own freak-out over what "lightly armed" meant a while ago. "One Magnetic Accelerator Cannon, twelve point-defense autocannons, and 'only' forty missile pods."

"Forty missiles?" Nagato asked. "So she was able to stock three quarters of her missiles for Alaska? That's not…too bad," she mused, doing some calculations.

Akashi smirked, taking some grim satisfaction in freaking out the secretary ship. "Not forty missiles, forty missile _pods_. And each pod holds thirty missiles." Nagato blinked, before going very, very pale. She stumbled over to a chair and slumped down.

Akashi continued, "She also is armed with, to quote, 'one Shiva-class tactical warhead, rated for fleet engagements.'" Nagato knew what the euphemism 'tactical warhead' meant; she held her head in her hands and groaned.

"And this 'Magnetic Accelerator Cannon' is a railgun?" Enterprise asked, steering the conversation past things that brought Nagato back to Crossroads.

"A coilgun, actually. The AI was rather insistent on that," Akashi replied. "It launched into a detailed explanation of the difference that went entirely over my head, but you're welcome to take a try if you wish. If you know what the term 'electromagnetic' means you'll at least make it farther than I did."

The look on Enterprise's face said the American carrier had no more idea than the repair ship. "I see," Enterprise said, pinching her nose. "And what about history, did you get anything on that?"

Akashi shook her head. "It had no idea; said that wasn't part of its programming. It did say that Harvest herself might know a lot, however; apparently her captain was a history teacher."

"That's a stroke of luck," Nagato commented knowingly. Enterprise raised the corner of her lips, though the expression did not reach her eyes. "Thank you, repair ship Akashi," the battleship continued. "You may continue with your work." The cruiser saluted and showed herself out.

As the capital ships made their way towards the cafeteria, Enterprise turned to Nagato. "In the future, I'd appreciate it if you kept any comments about any 'luck' I may have to yourself," Enterprise said reproachfully.

Nagato blinked. "You are widely regarded as one of the luckiest ships to have ever existed. Why do you seem ashamed?"

After a moment of thought, Enterprise responded, "Yukikaze is widely known to have survived many engagements in which she should have died. Do you consider her a lucky ship?"

Nagato opened her mouth to respond, before suddenly closing it again as she realized what the American was saying. The two ships remained silent for the rest of their trip.

* * *

"So there I was, with this big ugly mother right in front of me, and me at a good twenty-eight knots. Can't turn, can't dodge, so I thought, 'I'm just gonna charge this bitch.' So I put my shoulder down, and ran right towards her! Should'a heard the scream it started making when it realized what I was going to do!"

Harvest had a crowd around her at the cafeteria as she told her tale. In time-honored fashion, the story got better over time—but then again, thought Harvest, so did alcohol, right? A smile split the frigate's face as she told her tale.

"I put my shoulder down and rammed it straight into her! I knocked her down and just started stomping on her—gotta make sure it's good and dead, right?" So engrossed was Harvest in telling her tale, that she failed to notice how many of her listeners suddenly became suspiciously interested in something else. "I stomped her but good, and I looked up, and then everyone just said—"

"Harvest." The voice of Authority cut through Harvest's mood like an energy projector through a Paris-class. The frigate whirled around, and found herself staring at a pair of abdomens. Looking up brought her to the faces of Nagato and Enterprise.

It took Harvest a moment for her brain to engage her mouth. "Can I help you?"

Enterprise gestured. "Come, we need to talk." Looking around, Harvest realized everyone listening to her tale were conspicuously doing other things now. _Traitors_ , Harvest huffed. She stood up and followed the capital ships.

It was a very familiar walk back to Nagato's office; they even took her to the same meeting room that she met Yorktown in. "We've just gotten the brief on your armaments. Pretty impressive," Enterprise led off.

Harvest shrugged. "It's on the lower side for most UNSC warships, but that's also because some of the missile pods wouldn't carry anti ship missiles." Seeing the looks her interrogators gave her, Harvest continued, "Stalwart and Charon light frigates were mostly for ground support; many of their missile pods carried dumbfire rockets for kinetic strikes from orbit."

"You wouldn't use your cannon for that?" Nagato questioned.

"Not unless there was no other choice, Harvest responded. "A typical MAC fires a six hundred ton shell at thirty kilometers per second; the impact is on the order of an early nuclear device. We light frigates would often fire MAC shells about half that size, but a three hundred ton impact is still nothing to sneeze at. And considering we were fighting over our own worlds…" Harvest trailed off before shaking her head. "You'd need special permission from the theater commander to shoot a MAC in atmosphere, too. Bad stuff happens if you do it near friendly forces."

Enterprise looked confused. "You haven't seemed to have much trouble."

"I'm pint-sized," Harvest smiled, gesturing to her form. "A full-sized MAC sends a shockwave that does bad stuff to someone who isn't prepared for it. Anyone without ear protection needs new eardrums, at the least, and doing it danger-close is just asking for friendly-fire. We'll do it if there's a big enough need, but for the most part we stick to the rockets."

"I see," Enterprise made a couple notes, then continued, "Why don't you tell us about these rockets?"

"They're basically a dumbfire tungsten rod I drop from orbit; it gains speed as it falls, before impacting at a lethal velocity. But I don't really see why you'd ask me about those."

Enterprise raised an eyebrow. "Why would we not?"

"Because they're only useful if I'm in orbit; down on the ground they're just a heavy rod. Missiles are much more useful to me down here."

Enterprise's expression hardened. "I thought you were practicing your spaceflight. It seems like you would need to for you to use your full potential."

Harvest shrugged, her smile never leaving her face. "It's not like the Abyssals can hurt me anyway, so why would I? I don't even need to shoot them; I can just stomp them to death. And honestly I'm much more comfortable down here."

The carrier's face might as well have been carved from stone. "A technological edge is all well and good, but not if you use it as a crutch. Complacency only gives the enemy an edge over you."

Harvest rolled her eyes—who _was_ this chick? Harvest fought the Covenant, and knew well and good what a massive technological edge meant. "As long as I don't get swarmed and chipped apart I'll be fine. I'll just roll out with some backup; they can tell stories about how awesome I am, so much the better."

Enterprise's eyes bored into her, but for Harvest it might have been a MAC round bouncing off a shield. _This must be what a Covie ship feels like_ , Harvest thought. _Feels nice being the big ship in town for once!_

Nagato stepped in to continue the line of questions, but Harvest was completely unperturbed by the American's continued death glare. She was feeling something no Stalwart or Charon had ever felt before—invincible.

* * *

Yorktown pulled the hammer of her musket to half-cock and pushed the striker— _frissen_ , she reminded herself—forward. She reached around to her side, pulled out a paper-wrapped cartridge, tore the end off with her teeth, and poured some of the exposed powder into the firing pan, closing the frissen after doing so. Setting her weapon's butt on the floor of the carrier practice range, Yorktown poured the rest of the powder down the barrel before setting the paper and ball on the muzzle.

She was practiced enough not to need her eyes to help her ram the ammunition in place, so she glanced up at her target downrange, satisfied at the number of hits. Yorktown could see her strike planes—TBD Devastators—returning, but she knew from experience they were slow enough for Yorktown to load and fire the next wave before she'd have to recover them.

She extracted her ramrod from the barrel and returned it back to its place before picking her weapon back up, pulling the hammer to full-cock, and shouldering it. She knew her own position, and the position of the target; Yorktown shouldered her weapon with it pointed straight at the target; no need to adjust.

Checking her aim was correct and satisfied that it was, Yorktown squeezed the trigger. ***Ka-Pow!*** Yorktown watched her two scout-bomber squadrons heading toward the target, nodding to herself as she absent-mindedly raised her flight deck out to recover the ironically-named Devastators.

The SBDs were fast enough that they were ready to land by the time the last of the torpedo bombers were back on deck, and Yorktown kept her arm outstretched to allow her planes to land.

"I knew you'd be here," a familiar voice said to her side. Yorktown turned to behold her sister Hornet leaning against the wall. "But boy they make you find the place."

Yorktown smirked. "You'd think there would be a sign or something that says 'Carrier Practice Range', or at least something to help visitors along."

"I'm pretty sure there is such a sign, but in Japanese," Hornet retorted. Yorktown watched the last of her planes bounce back on her deck and lowered her arm. "Whatcha doin' all by yourself, though?"

Yorktown shrugged. "Just thought I'd blow off some steam."

"Hmm," Hornet responded, watching the black powder smoke drift away. "Steam over what?"

"You know… Stuff." Yorktown winced internally. Just like before, she could see the hits coming, but dodging out of the way was something she sucked at.

"Stuff," Hornet nodded. "Sister stuff?"

"Hornet…" Yorktown sighed, running her hand through her hair. "Look, it's not you—"

"I know," Hornet cut her off. "What do you have against Enterprise?"

"How can you stand it?" The elder carrier froze as her bridge sent several strongly worded dispatches down to her mouth demanding to know what the fuck it was doing just then. She glanced at her sister hoping by some miracle Hornet hadn't—yeah, she heard. Sighing deeply, Yorktown continued, "How can you stand her…acting like this? I understand love but…why does she want a tabular record of movement all the time from me? She's more demanding than my admiral!"

Hornet raised her eyebrow, which coupled with her face said _You should know damn well why_. "You told her you'd meet her at Pearl."

Yorktown rolled her eyes. "I thought I _would_ —I was, what, a few hours away from being able to start my boilers? Shit happened; it was war."

"They threw a party for us, you know. After Midway, they threw a party. Any time someone came in the door Enterprise's head shot up, only to slowly go back down when that person wasn't you. And when Nimitz came in and announced what happened…she took it hard."

"I took it hard when Lex blew up right in front of me; I don't demand a daily report from her _now_." Yorktown threw her arms up when she saw Hornet's expression. "What—should I try to apologize to my little sister for _dying_ all those years ago? It's not like I did it on purpose!" She signed and continued, "I just want my all-loving sister back, not this hard, demanding shell."

"All those psychology books you read in the library and you still haven't gotten it," Hornet retorted, folding her arms. "You apologizing won't do anything; she blames _herself_." Yorktown stared in response as Hornet started ticking off on her fingers. "She blames herself for not getting to the Coral Sea and saving Lexington. She blames herself for leaving you behind at Midway. And she _certainly_ blames herself for not being able to protect me at Santa Cruz."

Yorktown's brain finally re-engaged enough to retort. "What the hell more could she have done at Santa Cruz? She was knocked out and had to be dragged unconscious back to port."

"She refused to leave me, you know," Hornet said softly. "She and Northampton went round and round; finally Northampton promised her she'd get me to safety. When Enterprise looked away, Northampton slugged her hard enough to knock her out."

Yorktown blinked, her mouth hanging open; this was a part of the war she had never heard of.

"When Enterprise woke up, Northampton was there. She took it on herself to tell E that the towing failed." Hornet looked Yorktown in the eye. "She took it out on the poor cruiser, you know that? She _screamed_ at her for not fulfilling her promise, blamed her for my loss. With E still in dock, Northampton transferred to the front, just in time for Tassafaronga."

Yorktown started shaking her head, "I talked to her; she just didn't see the torpedoes. She insisted that's what happened—"

"Do you really think that matters?" Hornet's question was like a bomb through the hanger deck. "Do you really think Enterprise wouldn't believe that her tantrum caused her friend to commit suicide by Jap? Northampton escorted Enterprise from the start of the war—you don't think it's odd that Enterprise avoids Northampton like the plague?"

Yorktown was grateful she had her musket to lean on; she sagged as realization hit her. "How…How can we convince her? We can sit down and talk to her—it worked for you, right?"

Hornet shook her head. "What do you think I've been trying to do, York? My hang-up was over my own performance. Enterprise's…is over us."

* * *

 _'_ _How go the repairs, brothers?'_

 _'_ _We have ensured we will not break apart, at least. From there we proceed to other systems.'_

 _'_ _Very well. Proceed apace, and we may yet regain our lost honor.'_


	9. Chapter 9: Tales That Bond

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

"Yay! Food!"

Tenryuu smiled as her destroyers dashed into the cafeteria. Early on, Tenryuu and Tatsuta had agreed on the importance of setting a routine and keeping to it, something the destroyers seemed to appreciate (though that wouldn't stop them complaining sometimes). The destroyers never liked getting up at six in the morning, but the smell of food never failed to make the little girls resigned—even excited—to be awake.

Having gathered their food and claimed their usual table, the six ships set down to eat. Tenryuu always liked to keep an ear out for the other ships filing in. Some early risers—secretary ship Nagato and her assistant Ooyodo chief among them—were already finishing up and making their way out of the cafeteria. Others kept to different routines; Fubuki, for example, liked to go for a morning jog before eating. Tenryuu had no idea how Fubuki had enough fuel to run without eating, but applauded the destroyer's commitment nonetheless.

The past month and a half, however, had seen some ships that garnered interest simply for defying a routine: Yorktown, for example, seemed to like to sleep late and shower before going for food. For the past week, one ship in particular stood out from the rest. And judging by the sudden quiet that seemed to spread through the dining hall, that one ship had arrived.

Tenryuu turned to see Enterprise grab a food tray and make her way down the line. The varying reactions to the American ship never failed to amuse Tenryuu; in many ways she just seemed to _defy_ everyone's expectations. Many of the battleships—the two largest chief among them—had expected the American to be a grand and regal lady worthy of being considered a symbol of her nation, like Yamato or Hood. The aircraft carriers—Akagi and Kaga chief among them—had feared the American to be a monster, the "Gray Ghost" whose story is whispered with a flashlight framing ones face. Many cruisers and destroyers had imagined the American to be a swashbuckling corsair, one who embodied the motto to "Hit Hard, Hit Fast, Hit Often". Sendai had hoped the American to be as excited for the darkness as she, a fellow "Yasen Baka".

Reality, Tenryuu reflected as Enterprise moved towards a table in the very corner of the room, had left many confused, relieved, and disappointed kanmusu in its wake. The battleships found the grand and regal lady to be small and unassuming, her lack of interest in her appearance made obvious by everything from her oft-patched coat to her short-cut brown hair to her visible lack of makeup. The carriers had found the Grey Ghost utterly uninterested in settling historical grudges: her incredulous stare in response to Kaga's challenge to competition soon after Alaska had been the talk of Yokosuka for the past couple days. The smaller ships had been disappointed by their swashbuckling corsair as well: it was a rare moment anyone got more than a sentence out of Enterprise that was unrelated to business, and facial expressions were even more strictly rationed than her words. For such an extraordinary kanmusu, the Japanese were eternally shocked how incredibly _ordinary_ Enterprise was.

That said, Tenryuu thought as she watched the American eat, her mannerisms were anything _but_ ordinary. Kanmusu typically couldn't wait to get out of their equipment when returning to base, but Enterprise was never without her weapon. Entering the bath/shower area after the Alaska fight, Tenryuu had been surprised to see an ammunition belt hanging off the towel hook next to the shower, Enterprise's rifle right next to it, but even more interesting had been the fact that the towel itself was _underneath_ the belt, as though the American truly feared an enemy attack so much she was willing to grab her weapon and dash into battle naked. Enterprise was also surprising in that she seemed to reject routine; though she was always an early riser, she'd appear in the mess hall at different times and from different paths. In preparation for their American guests, Nagato had also made sure the cafeteria served traditional western fare, but Enterprise seemed to vary, picking up fruits and unbuttered toast or bagels, disdaining syrup on pancakes or waffles and instead eating them plain. She'd even occasionally grab a rice ball or a small piece of meat, though she always seemed to eat those first. No eggs, no soups.

It had been Hibiki who finally deciphered the common theme on day five: everything Enterprise grabbed were things she could stick into her pocket to eat later if there was an emergency.

It wasn't until the American carrier raised her finger and started moving it right and left like an eye exam that Tenryuu realized Enterprise had stopped eating and was giving her a quizzical look. The eyepatched cruiser blushed hard, her eyes dropping to her plate faster than a falling bomb.

"What's wrong, Tenryuu-san?" Tenryuu looked back up to see her destroyers all facing her, honest curiosity on their faces. But she couldn't just say that Enterprise had caught Tenryuu staring at her; that would give the wrong impression! And giving the destroyers _that_ wrong idea was the last thing Tenryuu wanted to do; Tatsuta would kill her, and that was if she didn't die out of sheer mortification first.

"I was just thinking…Enterprise looks so lonely all the way in the corner over there." _Phew, that was close_ , she thought as the destroyers stood atop the benches to see across the room. A glance at her sister, however, showed Tatsuta's right eyebrow perfectly perched. Tenryuu smiled nervously. _Gulp_.

"Yeah… She really does, doesn't she?"

"I got an idea; why don't we invite her over to sit with us!"

"Horosho."

"Alright, let's do it!"

"Hey, wait! I'm supposed to be the leader! Wait for meeeee!"

The whole exchange happened so fast that Tenryuu and Tatsuta barely had enough time to whip their heads around before the destroyers were off into the breakfast crowd. Staring at the vacant seats across the table, Tenryuu whispered fearfully, "There's no way she'll say yes, right?"

Tatsuta started to shake her head—the American seemed like one of those people who just seemed to prefer being alone, after all—but all movement halted immediately as the four destroyers popped right back out of the crowd…with the comparatively tall figure of USS Enterprise following sedately behind them.

Oh. Oh, dear.

The destroyers were quick to clear enough space for Enterprise to set down her tray—not nearly as much space as, say, Akagi would need, but significant nonetheless—and the five ships sat back down at the table, the carrier flanked by two destroyers on either side. The American nodded in greeting at the two cruisers before going back to her breakfast.

Well, _now_ what? Tenryuu and Tatsuta looked at each other, as though daring the other to speak first. There was never any question who would win that fight. Tenryuu gulped. Well, damn the torpedoes—an American phrase she loved the moment she heard it—time to break the ice!

"So…how's it going?" A voice inside Tenryuu's head started slow-clapping. _Outstanding, Tenryuu. Out-fucking-standing! Real stellar intro, there! Keep it up!_

"Nothing much to say," Enterprise responded, swallowing her toast. "Harvest continues to remind me of your First Carrier Division, and any attempts to persuade her otherwise—or for that matter, that she'll be better used in orbit rather than stomping Abyssals to death—have been rebuffed." _She might as well be giving a report_ , Tenryuu thought.

Still, any conversation was better than none, she supposed. "How does she remind you of First CarDiv?"

"She believes herself invincible. She knows her training is superior, her equipment is superior, and her protection is superior. But because she knows she is superior, she believes anything the enemy might do to counter her will fail as a matter of course. And that worries me."

"But she's so powerful!" Ikazuchi interjected. "She laughed off a battleship oni! Nothing the Abyssals have can hurt her!"

"She is certainly very powerful, I cannot deny that. There is little question her armor and weapons show the effects of five hundred years of advancement, but that does not make her invulnerable."

"Harvest says she knows that, but that the enemy will have to swarm her in numbers, nanodesu."

Enterprise paused long enough to take a sip of water. "At the end of 1941, the Japanese navy was larger than any other force in the Pacific. You had more aircraft carriers than we did, and they were all concentrated in one ocean rather than split between two. Our battleship line was sunk in the mud of Pearl; yours was alive and kicking. Your pilots were hardened veterans, ours kids who had barely completed flight school. Your fighters could fly rings around ours, and your planes could strike far beyond the range of ours. Not only did your torpedoes actually work, but they worked far better than we thought possible. And the end of December, 1941, the Japanese navy was, without question, the best."

The American stopped and took another sip of water. "The problem was, you were the best, and you _knew_ it. And because you knew it, you were blinded to the thought that we might try to counter it. And we abused that blindness, frequently and maliciously. Japan was blind to the thought that we might break their codes. Japan was blind to the thought that our fighters might adapt tactics to negate the Zero's advantages and highlight its disadvantages. Japan was blind to the fact that the destruction of our battle line forced us to develop strategies that would account for that lack, and minimize that loss. And Japan was blind to the fact that every American survivor came away with precious experience and insight that was immediately spread across the fleet, whereas every Japanese loss was a dearth of experience and training Japan could never replace."

Tenryuu could see out of her peripheral vision that some of the kanmusu at neighboring tables turn their attention towards the conversation, but Enterprise did not seem to notice as she continued, "I've noticed some Japanese cling to the idea that they lost simply because we outproduced them. I suppose that is a comforting myth, but it is also a false one; by the time all the new carriers and battleships started hitting the field in 1943, the forces that made Japan such a strong power in 1941 were already broken. The United States won the war by _outfighting_ Japan. We minimized our weaknesses and highlighted our strengths, whereas Japan was too blinded by their superiority to realize what we were doing until it was too late. And that is why I worry for Harvest."

The sudden shift back to the spaceship startled many of the listening neighbors out of their eavesdropping, but it seemed like the Tenryuu's destroyers followed along. "You think they'll come up with a new Abyssal to counter her?" Akatsuki asked.

"I don't know," Enterprise answered honestly, which seemed to surprise the DesDiv 6 destroyers. "They might try to directly counter her with a new design, they might adapt their tactics to try to minimize Harvest's advantages, they might try to just bait Harvest in and spring a trap. What I _do_ know is that as long as Harvest believes she's untouchable anything the Abyssals might try stands a far greater chance of proving her wrong."

As Enterprise sighed again Tenryuu remembered back to her conversation with Harvest the day after she arrived, when she wandered into the bathhouse as Tenryuu was being repaired. "Enterprise," Tenryuu said slowly, "How much do you know about the war where she came from?"

The American ship raised an eyebrow. "Not much; she won't tell me anything, and it seemed like rather traumatic memories for her." The latter part of the sentence trailed off towards a softness Tenryuu hadn't expected out of the gruff carrier.

"The day after she arrived here," Tenryuu said slowly, "she confided to me a bit about the war where she came from. I won't pass on any details—you'd have to get those from her—but from what she told me it seemed like the enemy had such an advantage over her, and that she was paying the price."

Enterprise nodded slowly. "That would start to explain why she feels so comfortable with a technological advantage, but that still doesn't discount the possibility that the enemy could be outfought as well."

"You'd have to ask her," Tenryuu said quickly. "I could…try and help, if you need it."

Enterprise shook her head. "Your patrols are too important. There's been a lot of Abyssal subsurface activity lately."

"There has?" That was certainly news to Tenryuu! But it did explain why she was ordered for regular patrols rather than another resource run.

The American nodded. "They've started noticing Abyssal subs acting up all over the place. Destroyers are having a field day."

Tenryuu nodded slowly, trying to ignore the shiver making its way down her spine. She feared nothing—she knew so!—but she had been sunk by a submarine. But as long as everyone looked out for each other… "Well, we'll give those Abyssals our all. They won't catch us napping!"

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Enterprise responded with a smile. She stood up and gave a small bow to the Japanese cruiser. "Thank you very much for the advice, Tenryuu. I enjoyed spending time with your kindergarden." She rubbed each of the destroyers on the head, picked up her tray, and made her way out.

It wasn't until after Enterprise left that Tenryuu stopped preening enough to realize what the American had said. Her head whirled around to face Tatsuta, who gazed at her sister with a Cheshire grin. "So…Tenryuu's Kindergarden, eh?"

Paling rapidly, Tenryuu whirled to face her destroyers, but it was too late. "Yep, we're her kids, alright!" Akatsuki crowed.

"Hawawawa…"

"Horosho."

Tenryuu buried her face in her hands, her cheeks glowing red. A hand patted her on the back. "There, there," Tatsuta soothed, "No matter what, you'll always have your children."

"God damn it, Tatsuta."

* * *

"Tell me about your war."

The question hadn't been phrased _quite_ like that, but Harvest understood it to be the gist of it. And such a change of pace from her interrogator put Harvest on guard. "Why the hell should I?"

Enterprise shrugged; if she was bothered in the slightest by the hostility she did a good job hiding it. "I want to know. You seem confident that you know what you're talking about; tell me how you know."

Harvest practically jumped for joy—a reaction she never expected to have when asked to talk about the Covenant, but this was it. Finally, at long last, a chance to show this overbearing know-it-all what it truly felt like to be fighting a war where the enemy held all the advantages. So, without considering the possibility that Enterprise might have an alternative motive, Harvest started from the top.

First contact, how the enemy attacked without warning or provocation, how only one sentence was spoken before the fighting began.

The grinding five-year fight for control of Harvest. The fact that the UNSC only won fleet engagements with a three-to-one numbers advantage, and even then with seventy-five percent losses. (She made sure Enterprise noted down _that_ statistic.)

The additional Covenant advances through the outer colonies. How her skipper was a history professor on Arcadia who was evacuated along with his students. How her skipper's wife and daughter were not so lucky.

The Cole Protocol, and how it was responsible for stretching a war that would have been over in several months into one that lasted for decades. And finally, herself.

"I was born—constructed, whatever—in 2546 at the frigate shipyards orbiting the inner colony of Epsilon Eridani II—Reach. I was in my first battle before a month had passed."

"What did you do?"

"My job was ground support. Light frigates aren't worth much in fleet battles; we don't carry many missiles, and can't recharge our MAC fast enough to be worthwhile. So we're relegated to ground support; providing orbital fire for the ground troops to try to hold the enemy back."

"And how long were you at this for?"

"…A few days," Harvest replied quietly. "I don't remember the name, but it was a small colony. There wasn't much in the way of defense."

"How was the Fleet fighting back? Were they trying any tactic they could or—"

"I don't remember," Harvest cut the carrier off. "I didn't see. I was focusing on my job and evacuating civilians."

"Alright," Enterprise said, holding up her hands.

Harvest briefly skipped past her second battleground—another colony she couldn't remember, but this fight took several months rather than a few days. Still, though, at the end the result was the same: Fleet couldn't hold the Covenant back anymore, the ships evacuated, and the colony was glassed. And then, Harvest progressed on to her last battle.

"Skopje was a large colony world, with a population of several million and a shipyard. During the battle Command decided that evacuating the shipyard's material, tools, and workers and setting them back up on Reach would be a better use of resources than keeping the shipyard working until they were overrun. They dispatched five large transport ships to carry everything, along with any civilians that could be evacuated off the surface."

"Were you ground support for this operation, too?"

"No. I was assigned to guard the transport ships. I dropped off the Marines and the one tank in my complement and proceeded upstairs to get into position. Two fellow Stalwarts were ordered to insert their ODSTs at a castle some guy built that served as a blocking position from the yards. I don't know what happened to them.

"After a while either the shipyards were evacuated or command decided we couldn't stay there anymore, I don't know. But either way we were ordered to jump to deep space following the Cole Protocol. The convoy would make several more random jumps before heading back to Reach. Things didn't go quite to plan."

"What happened?"

"The Covies jumped after us. We were waiting for the transports' drives to recharge when they appeared: two destroyers and a cruiser. Our force numbered four light frigates—myself included—three heavy frigates, and one light cruiser. The _Pillar of Autumn_."

"So that's eight against three," Enterprise said. Harvest was glad the carrier seemed to be paying attention to the numbers. Maybe her story was having the desired effect after all.

Harvest nodded. "We got lucky; there's a moment delay after the Covenant leave slipspace before their shields come back up, and one of the Paris heavy's managed to sneak a MAC round right through that brief gap and nail a destroyer. It was promptly gutted by an energy projector in turn." Harvest trailed off, her mind back on the memory of that day.

"What happened next?" Enterprise asked. When no answer came back, the carrier prodded. "Harvest?"

"Sorry; can we take a break, maybe get some air?" Harvest asked far too quickly for her liking, but she really didn't want to think about her last day.

To her relief, Enterprise agreed. The two walked out of the office, Harvest grabbed her equipment, and Enterprise stood on the shore as the frigate stepped into the bay—just to stretch her legs, she told herself. Gliding across the water, she breathed as deeply as she could, trying to get her mind off a place where she could be killed by a mere back-swipe, back to the here and now where nothing stood a chance of standing in her way.

Before she had a chance to react, a hand shot out of the deep, grabbed Harvest by the ankle, and yanked her under the waves.


	10. Chapter 10: Goes Around, Comes Around

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

A raised eyebrow was the only visible indicator of surprise the woman gave. "Care to repeat that, Captain?"

"UNSC _Repensum Est Canicula_ is requesting reassignment, Admiral."

Now the woman narrowed her eyes, boring into the man on screen with the intensity of an energy projector. "And _why_ should I grant such a request? We need the recruits, Captain. Our very existence is at stake. Whatever qualms you may possess are paltry in comparison."

"Paltry they may be but present they still are, ma'am." The man looked back at her with a surprising amount of defiance as he continued, "Every time we go in we see the desperation with which Fleet, the ground troops, even their parents fight to make sure these children make it off world. And now you wish me to conscript them."

"We. Need. The. Recruits," the woman ground out. "Every time you go in you can see that too. Morals do no good if we wind up too _dead_ to hold to them." She steepled her fingers in front of her. "As unpleasant as you may feel, these children are critical to our cause. And they are nothing if not eager to enlist."

The man looked as though he tasted something bitter. "Of course they're eager; it's all they have left! What good is surviving if we give up all that makes us human to achieve it? I am sick of collecting devastated boys and girls for you to turn into soldiers, and my entire crew agrees!"

The woman slowly placed her elbows on her desk, folding her hands in front of her face. The man seemed to believe the action meant she was considering his words. "We are more than willing to assist in other areas," he continued evenly. "We'll head into enemy territory to gather intelligence on Covenant targets. We'll assist the Fleet in defending the colonies. And rest assured, neither my crew nor I will ever reveal—"

"Of _that_ , I am quite certain," the woman snapped. She sighed. "Very well; your request for reassignment is granted. Report to Sol for debriefing and your new orders. Command out."

Her personal AI, well aware of its owner's tendencies, cut the line as soon as she said _out_. The woman remained in her pose for a few more seconds, before tapping a button on her console.

Her protégé answered after precisely one ring. "Osman."

"Contact Section Zero," the woman said. "I have a cleanup for them."

* * *

 _Ow, my fucking head_ , thought Harvest as she returned to the present. She opened her eyes to behold a dark, twisted structure, hate and malice radiating off it into the waters around. The frigate raised an eyebrow, but before she could consider her situation further she noticed the oceanic wildlife in the distance, always maintaining a clear distance from the structure. _Oh, right, the Abyssals. For a moment I thought I was in Parangosky's heart._ The spaceship smiled in amusement; where had _that_ come from?

Her amusement tapered off as reports on her situation made their way into her bridge. Apparently she had been chained to the ocean floor for some time; several Abyssals both identified and unidentified had manipulated her into position before attempting to remove her equipment. It was with no small satisfaction that her tactical officer explained how they failed to make any headway on her armor. "Alright, I'm grateful they can't kill me down here," she finally said, "but why can't I move?"

Copeland spoke up to answer that question: " _Your maneuvering thrusters are chemical rockets, Commander. They will not function underwater_."

"What about my main engines?"

" _They_ can _work, but without maneuvering thrusters there would be no way of adjusting your course_." To illustrate the consequences of such an action, Copeland helpfully replayed her memory of zipping around like a deflating balloon before slamming face first onto the ocean surface.

Harvest grimaced, her stomach aching in remembrance. "Sometimes I think you're a Smart AI after all, Copeland. You certainly can snark like one." Though they were probably far more common now than before the war—plenty more available brains that can be turned into them with war casualties, after all—Smart AIs were still precious equipment whose assignment was tightly controlled, based on who would need the improvisational power of a Smart AI, and who would put it to good use.

At the top of the list for the Fleet were command and control centers like Sol, Reach, and Jericho, assisting their creators in keeping the bases running. It was not too uncommon for large fleet bases to have several AIs running in concert: Harvest knew from personal experience that Fleet Base Jericho had a series of dumb AIs overseeing the repair stations, traffic control, the orbital defense network, and other systems, with a single smart AI in overall control. She suspected other large Fleet Bases had similar arrangements.

Second in line for smart AIs were fleet commanders. Bound to the admiral rather than any specific ship, they'd move with the admiral to assist with running their fleets. Oftentimes such smart AIs would find themselves working alongside other AIs on their flagship: a carrier flagship, for example, would possess both a dumb AI for everyday running of the ship and managing its complement of smaller craft as well as a smart AI in the admiral's quarters for running the fleet.

Third and fourth in line were special operations and task force commanders, respectively, but fifth in line was—ironically—light frigates. Given their frequent use supporting groundside operations, it was not too unusual for light frigates to be assigned smart AIs to help coordinate ground operations, air support, and Fleet ortillery. Though the vast majority of those selected for this precious gift were Charons, Harvest had seen a couple fellow Stalwarts whose dumb AI was replaced with a smart one.

With light frigates, however, ended the rubric for official assignment of smart AIs. Cruisers would have a smart AI only if selected as a flagship. Placing a smart AI on a heavy frigate or even a destroyer—the "poor bloody infantry" of the UNSC Navy—was universally regarded a waste of a valuable combination of the intelligence of a computer with the improvisation of a human. Smart AIs were assigned to ships that could put them to good use—not to mention ships less likely to be destroyed in their first engagement.

Harvest grimaced. As short as her eight-month service life had been, she knew she lasted far longer than many. The average time between construction and destruction of a Stalwart-class light frigate was just under three months. Even that was better than some: the average for a destroyer was about two months. Paris-class heavy frigates had an average measured in _weeks_.

FleetCom knew far better than to spread such statistics around, and talking about them was the fastest way to bring ONI crashing down on your head aside from walking around Reach proclaiming yourself an insurrectionist. But there was nothing FleetCom or ONI could do that would prevent people from doing the math themselves.

Harvest sighed despondently. She had been so damn happy; finally, a place she didn't have to worry about being killed out of course! Finally, a place where _she_ was the Big Ship in Town. Intellectually, she knew Enterprise had been right: just because she was powerful did not mean she was invincible—the hole she blasted through the slipspace drive of that CCS class after Skopje should have told her that well enough. But she just wanted to _believe_ …

A report from her hanger brought Harvest out of her melancholy. The frigate smirked; as the Covenant got to learn time and time again, just because the UNSC was down didn't mean they were out. Her hanger doors faced the ocean floor; like a diving boat, the air pocket inside the ship should keep the water out even as the doors were opened, but all hatches were sealed just in case.

First to drop out of the bay doors were six SOEIV pods. Her engineers had worked overtime modifying the drop pods, and though Harvest knew her crew to be the best she still fretted as the pods sank deeper, only to cheer internally as the drag chutes popped out just as she hoped. Harvest knew several of her SOEIV pods were now useless with their drag chutes cannibalized, but it was worth it seeing the makeshift balloons pop out and send the six drop pods rocketing towards the surface. _Part One, complete_.

Doing her damndest to keep her face straight—a grinning prisoner would grab any jailors attention, after all—Harvest watched as Part Two of the plan was set into motion. Fully sealed in their suits, twelve more black-clad figures dropped out of Harvest's hanger, slowly sinking down to the ocean floor. The hanger doors slid closed again as soon as the last fairy had sortied, close-range sensors confirming the Abyssals around her were not moving outside their usual patrols. Harvest allowed herself a small smile; her actions had gone unnoticed. Good.

The frigate glanced down her bindings, picking up her fairies in her peripheral vision. Though the twelve fairies did carry explosives, they were not there to break Harvest's bindings; they had no idea if they carried enough explosives to break the—understandably over-the-top—chains keeping the frigate on the ocean floor, and whether it worked or not the explosion would draw everyone's attention. Even if Harvest did break free, there was no way she could recover her crew before bugging out, and if it failed then the game was well and truly up. Instead, Harvest wiggled her eyebrows, and the twelve fairies saluted and started making their way towards the Abyssal base in the distance. _Away, my pretties_ , Harvest thought sardonically, and smiled.

* * *

Far above the bound spaceship, six small spheres broke the ocean surface. Inside the SOEIV pods dangling below the balloons, the six ODSTs of Able Squad pressed the buttons that would normally fire the retro rockets that would slow and allow them to steer during their descent from orbit. Instead of rockets, however, the buttons activated yet more makeshift balloons, which brought their pods fully to the surface. Ejecting the pod doors, Able leaned out of their pods, and confirmed the nearby presence of a body of land that, if the swabbie working Navigation was to be believed, was one of the many bits of land making up the Marshall Islands. Satisfied of their position, the ODSTs paddled their pods towards shore.

While Baker and Charlie Squads got to have fun fucking up the Abyssal base and while Dog, Easy, and Fox Squads got to put their feet up and relax—that is, 'protect the ship in case the enemy tries anything funny'—Able Squad pulled the assignment of summoning help. The six ODSTs had been miffed that the heavy weapons in their pods were replaced with the components for three sets of tightbeam communications gear, but they had been assured that the ships their frigate interacted with for the past couple months possessed some rudimentary radio direction-finding capability. Though setting up an open-broadcast radio in the middle of enemy territory and hoping for the best was a surefire bloody failure, the techies assured the ODSTs that, properly calibrated, tightbeam comms could broadcast to specific friendly ships without the Abyssals knowing any better. The six ODSTs set the self-destruct charges on their emptied pods before splitting into pairs, each group heading to a disparate point on the island to hide out and set up.

None of the Abyssals on the island reacted much to what sounded like a series of gunshots echoing through the air. When you were stationed near what the humans would term an "R&D Lab", you quickly became inured to any but the most powerful explosion; something that sounded like one of the human's pistols would draw more notice for how quaint it was than as a sign of danger. A couple of Abyssals laughed, one rolled its eyes. On the lookout for far bigger things, none of the Abyssals noticed tiny figures in the shadows.

* * *

 _Ping._

Nagato's eyes shot open. She had been looking forward to finally getting some shut-eye. The three days since Harvest had disappeared had been a living hell; frantic searches, constant conference calls with the Admiral, with Saratoga, with Prince of Wales, and so many more had yielded nothing. Not helping matters was Enterprise—a kanmusu Nagato felt she _should_ be able to lean on to help—being all but inconsolable after what happened. Nagato felt guilty for thinking such thoughts; the American had apparently _seen_ Harvest disappear under the waves, after all, and had frantically leapt into the bay after her before scrambling around Yokosuka dragging any and all kanmusu she crossed into a desperate search, but as the carrier was finally dragged back to her room by her sisters Nagato could not help but feel some resentment for, yet _again_ , an out-of-the-blue situation dumping everything onto the battleship's shoulders.

 _Ping._

Radio direction-finding was something that existed back when Nagato was made of steel, let alone this human body. The general idea was that one could pick up a direction from which radio waves traveled, using it as a guide for direction to travel. The Kido Butai had used some radio direction-finding at the start of the Pacific War, using a music broadcast out of Honolulu to confirm they were on the right path towards Hawaii. The fear of RDF also lead the Kido Butai to maintain radio silence on their way towards the Hawaii operation; even if the Americans could not understand radio messages, the mere presence of radio transmissions from a certain direction risked tipping the Americans off to the Japanese fleet approaching.

 _Ping._

Radio direction-finding had civilian uses too: before GPS and satellites, RDF was a way to find a lost ship: so long as the broadcast was picked up by three different stations, a position could be triangulated. But Nagato had always first picked up a message on her radio and only then adjusted her RDF equipment to follow it. She'd never had a radio transmission sent _directly_ to her RDF equipment. Yet that was exactly what was happening now.

 _Ping_.

Nagato tried to think what on earth was happening, before her eyes suddenly widened. She had nothing beyond a hunch, but she had an idea as to who of anyone would be able to send something directly to her RDF, and what that someone was trying to do.

Nagato ran to the conference room, dialed up San Diego, and waited. It took several rings before Saratoga picked up. "What?" the American asked tiredly. Rubbing her eyes she continued, "Can this wait until the morning? I've got this damn pinging in my head and it won't go away."

Nagato's heart soared. "That's exactly what I'm calling about. I think I know what's going on. Let me bring someone else into the call." Ignoring the exhausted, incredulous look on her friend's face, the battleship stepped back to the controls. Radio direction-finding required three points to get an accurate reading; who else would the kanmusu call? Tenryuu, Yorktown, and Enterprise were all in Yokosuka too; none of them were far enough from Nagato to provide an accurate third point. Surely she knew that, however; she'd call someone else, but who? It would have to be someone she met recently… Nagato suddenly flew into motion, dialing up the third number, adding it to the call, and stepping back in front of the screen.

The call picked up after a couple rings, to show an empty room. "I'm telling you, I've got this damn ping in my head and it won't go away," a voice said off screen. "What the bloody hell do you mean you don't hear it? It's loud as anything to me; my RDF gear might as well be on a fox hunt or something."

"Wales?" Nagato called out. She could see Saratoga on the other screen start to perk up. "Prince of Wales, this is Nagato in Yokosuka. Can you hear me?"

After a couple moments Prince of Wales made her way in front of the camera. Unusually for the stiff-upper-lip British battleship, Prince of Wales wore a grimace on her face, her hands rubbing her temples in futility. "Nagato, this is Prince of Wales in Singapore. Sorry to ask but can we do this later? I don't have any new ideas about your missing girl and at the moment I have this incredibly frustrating—"

"Ping. In your head. That no one else can hear, that won't go away, and that seems to be bypassing your radio room and going straight to your radio direction-finder." Prince of Wales looked up in surprise, taking in the Japanese battleship who had uncharacteristically cut her off, and the American aircraft carrier who seemed quite awake despite the bedclothes she was obviously wearing. "We have it too, and I think I know what it's coming from." Nagato smiled predatorily, as the two Western capital ships listened in. "I think Harvest is calling for help."


	11. Chapter 11: The Only Easy Day

**A/N** : I know I mentioned it in a previous chapter, but considering how often I repeat the nicknames here I thought I'd make it clear to avoid confusion: "Fast Carrier Task Force" is-both historically and here in FEAHC-the fleet based around the fast Essex class aircraft carriers of the United States Navy. Here in FEAHC, the FCTF has also gotten the nickname "Big Blue Fleet" because every Essex came back in the blue uniforms of the American Civil War. I know I've mentioned it before, but it was a while ago and just wanted to repeat it in case anyone forgot.

Some review responses:

 **TazalTerminals** , **danialzkz** , **War historian** , **AnalPoptarts** : I've been placing hints as to who is coming throughout the chapters; that said, there's another large hint at the end of this one.

 **Danny79** : Methinks she already realizes her overconfidence has come round to bite her. And yeah, I'm having lots of fun with the ODST fairies. If you like them now, just you wait...

 **TheEliteDucky** : I'm a _big_ World War Two history buff, as you can probably tell, and given that everyone and their brother uses "Alpha, Bravo, Charlie" I thought I'd do something different. Regarding the second point, did it really seem like I was describing a ship _girl_?

"Internal affairs" basically means that Section Zero is effectively ONI's secret police. "Illegal operation" probably would describe the Spartan III's, but who do you think the woman was? (Hint: she's Serin Osman's mentor, and Harvest mentions her name in the next passage.)

I mentioned I am a big WWII history buff; the translated name of the NKVD, the secret police that fueled Stalin's rule over the Soviet Union and kept the Politburo in line, was "People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs". That's not a coincidence.

 **BrokenLifeCycle** , **Guest** : Thanks for the well wishes, and enjoy!

To everyone who has followed/favorited this story, thanks for your support, and enjoy the show!

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

USS Yorktown (CV-10) smirked as she sailed southwest with her task group. A few days ago word passed to Pearl that an Abyssal base had been discovered lurking in the Marshal Islands. Two days ago submarines sent to reconnoiter the site confirmed a sizable base on the atoll of Kwajalein, apparently with a gigantic undersea base offshore. Yesterday the commandant of the Hawaii garrison, the original USS Lexington, judged a quarter of the Fast Carrier Task Force supplemented by escort carriers and other ship girls to be a sufficient force to defend the islands. Lexington radioed her sister, " _Am proceeding south with three groups to attack enemy base at dawn_."

The irony, of course, was lost on absolutely no one. Every single one of the Big Blue Fleet's ship girls rolled their eyes in unison when Lexington boasted what she said. What Saratoga said in response the converted battlecruiser told no one, but given Lex could only return a sheepish "I've always wanted to say that," Yorktown could take a guess.

Historical jokes aside, Yorktown knew they had reason to be confident: the Abyssals still seemed to be recovering from the Midway strike the Japanese had carried out months earlier, and all were excited to learn the Abyssal base in the Aleutians had been wiped out. After years of slow, grinding fights, progress now seemed to be speeding up. The end of the Abyssal war may be on the horizon after all.

Lexington turning around to face them brought Yorktown out of her musing. "We're almost in position, and light should be coming soon," the deerskin-clad carrier said, her face hidden in the predawn darkness. "Split into your groups, and load up. Bennington, keep your group as anti-ship in case anything comes up. Everyone else, as soon as the first ray of light appears over the horizon, start firing. Let's give 'em hell, girls."

Yorktown's smirk morphed into a grin as she shifted her rifle higher on her shoulder and held her left arm out. Responding to the command, Intrepid, Shangri La, and Ticonderoga revved their engines, shifting out of column behind Yorktown and into a firing line beside her. The movements mimicked what the carriers did as steel ships—Yorktown still preferred the colorful "murderer's row" over boring "firing line"—but her and many other ships in the Big Blue Fleet always got a kick out of the wildly different groups they found talking about them online. As Independence once griped half-jokingly, "Leave it to us to bring together _mecha musume_ fans, naval history buffs, and Civil War re-enactors. Only in America."

Shaking her head at the silliness of the modern world, Yorktown set her Springfield Model 1861 Rifled-musket atop her foot to keep it out of the water and reached around to her side. The pre-war carriers, Yorktown's namesake included, had several different Revolution-era ammunition types they could choose from to mimic different strikes. Birdshot produced a fighter sweep, for example, and buckshot a bomber sweep or a scout-bomber patrol. A full strike was produced through a combination ammunition called "buck-and-ball": one large musket ball combined with three buckshot balls. The result was a powerful strike…at closer ranges. At longer ranges, however, the strikes spread out and became less accurate, even piecemeal as fighters separated from dive bombers separated from torpedo bombers. Observing a strike fired at maximum range, Enterprise griped the result was a "scarily accurate recreation of Midway, where no one knew what they were doing and everyone came from ten different points on the compass". The result came down more to luck than skill or quality, and despite being one of the luckiest ships ever known, both iterations of Yorktown knew that Enterprise despised few things more than having to rely on her luck to carry the day.

Opposed to the variety offered by the prewar carriers, Yorktown reflected as she extracted her shot from the pouch and tore the end off with her teeth, the Essex class and mid-war refits offered just one type of ammunition: the Minié ball, workhorse of the American Civil War. Accurate even at long ranges, the Minié ball Yorktown rammed down the barrel perfectly mimicked late-war American carrier doctrine: successive waves of attacks at long range, combining fighters, dive bombers, and torpedo bombers. Though the different ship types carried enough weapons to satisfy any Civil War buff—while the Essexes came back with Springfields, the light carriers tended to appear with Sharps rifles, and the escort carriers with Spencer's, Henry's, and other carbines—the end result was still the same. Any enemy who stood in their way soon found themselves drowned in dark blue airplanes, the victim of massed carrier strikes from over the horizon. And soon, Yorktown thought with a smirk as she placed a blasting cap on the nipple before easing the hammer back down atop it, yet more Abyssals will learn the folly of daring to resist the Big Blue Fleet.

"Yorkten!" Lexington called out. Yorktown had been very intimidated the first time she met her namesake; from what little Enterprise had said during the war Yorktown expected CV-5 to be a towering giant, a symbol she always had to strive to live up to. What she did not expect was for her namesake to only come up to her nose, nor for that matter for CV-5 to slap her on the back hard enough to stagger her, before promptly christening her with that damned nickname. It seemed she did it to everyone—seeing their instructor's reaction to being called "Little E" _never_ got old, though Cabot found out the hard way that anyone but her sister calling her that was in for a world of pain—but Yorktown still deflated a bit any time she heard that.

Still, she had to answer the commanding carrier. "Aye, ma'am?" Yorktown turned to face the deerskin-clad convert. The pre-war carriers often jumped at the chance to upgrade past their pre-war refit, though their weapon choices often did not conform to the standardization of their as-built fellows. Only Enterprise picked a Springfield like her fellow fleet carriers. Saratoga preferred a Henry for whatever reason, and Wasp and Hornet both drew Sharps rifles. CV-5, oddly enough, seemed to prefer her pre-war refit, much to her little sister's frustration.

"Is your command ready?" Lexington's choice, a Spencer, glinted in the pre-morning light. It was almost time.

"Aye, ma'am!" Yorktown had no need to turn and examine her fellow carriers. She knew more than enough time had passed for them to be loaded. One of the reasons she had been promoted to handle a group of her own was the fact that she trusted her subordinates to be competent without micromanagement.

Lexington nodded. "Then let's go!"

Yorktown turned to face her charges, who stood loaded, ready, and willing, just as she expected. Her trust was not misplaced. "Rifles! At the ready!" The carriers hefted their Springfields.

"Aim!" The firing line leveled westward.

"Fire!"

* * *

 _This place is a damned fortress_ , Albacore grumbled to herself as she observed the Abyssal base. Tang hadn't been kidding when she described the Abyssal base as "gigantic"; this thing was _huge_! A large dome-like structure held a pocket of air, in which sat a series of eldritch structures that set Albacore's "Abyssal-sonar" pinging like mad. And somewhere in this mass of whatever-the-hell was a special ship-girl in need of rescue, orders from Saratoga herself. The need to locate and rescue whomever was the only reason Harder wasn't charging in like the madwoman she was, but it sure was annoying hiding behind coral and rock trying to peer through the water to find this chick. And all that might well be for naught if she wasn't alive anymore.

Saratoga had repeated multiple times that the mission was a rescue, not a recovery, but Albacore wasn't too optimistic. She knew that ship-girls could survive a surprising number of environments as long as they kept their rigging, but she also knew the odds of the Abyssals forgetting to remove a ship-girls rig were slim to none. And even if the rigging did stay attached, no one wanted to know what the Abyssals might do to a live captured ship girl, and these were girls who knew all too well what the Japanese did to American prisoners during the war. It was not without reason that Albacore and the other subgirls included a scuttling charge to blow away their rig and themselves with it. It wasn't like it added any vulnerability—submarines were glass coffins no matter what—and far better to take yourself out than suffer whatever the Abyssals might subject you to. So far as Albacore knew, no subgirl had yet had to actually implement such a final act, but the entire silent service agreed that safe was better than sorry.

Albacore's brooding came to an abrupt end as Abyssals started pouring out of the dome and heading to the surface. She checked her watch—the Big Breasted Fuckers (a nickname the subgirls made sure stayed within their ranks, none of them wanting to face angry aircraft carriers) were nothing if not punctual. But that was the signal for the subs to start extracting the girl they were supposed to find. Albacore could see Tang snarl in frustration. Where _was_ this bitch?

A tap on her leg startled Albacore, but whirling around brought her to face Darter, not an Abyssal. As Albacore willed her heart to calm back down, Darter pointed towards a small pit, just outside the dome. Albacore looked and smiled. There she was, and wouldn't you know it, her rig was even attached! Albacore made her way over to Tang and pointed out the same, and a predatory smile came over the sub leader's face. The smile froze, however, as the girl in question suddenly looked straight at the two subs, wiggled her eyebrows, and went back to lazily looking about, as though nothing in the world was wrong.

The subs had a moment of panic—had they been compromised?—before settling into admiration. Somehow this girl was aware of the rescue force, and was doing her best to avoid tipping off any Abyssals that might still be in the area. Maybe Saratoga's insistence on rescue wasn't so misplaced after all.

Pieces of Abyssals started sinking around them by the time the subgirls made their way to their objective. The plan had called for Dace, Darter, and Albacore to work on the girl's binds, while Harder kept watch and Tang communicated with the prisoner via grease pencil, but Tang quickly noticed that Harder's definition of "keeping watch" boiled down to "lustily staring at the Abyssal base wishing to blow it to smithereens", and swapped up the plan: Harder joined the twins on chain duty, Tang kept watch, and Albacore found herself with slate and grease pencil in her hands. She swam up to the captive girl and wrote "OK?" on the slate.

" _I'm fine,_ " sounded out inside Albacore's head. The subgirl blinked; what the hell? " _Yes, I can talk to you, but I can't move my limbs underwater, so unless you want to try to read facial expressions let's get this over with._ " The subgirl blinked a few more times, before deciding this was something to worry about after the mission. She rubbed the slate clean and wrote a new message. "Ready?"

" _I have twelve fairies inside the base. I need to extract them._ " Albacore frowned; though she was sure Harder would jump at the chance, Albacore knew they had far too few girls to infiltrate the base successfully. Her brow furrowed, as she erased the slate and thought how to gently tell the girl she would have to leave her fairies behind.

Before she could, though, a series of sharp _cracks_ echoed out of the base. The five subs quickly flattened against the rocks, looking up to see the dome and much of the base rocket towards the surface, several Abyssals being sucked up in the process. Peering over the rocks revealed the supports anchoring the dome to the ocean floor had been severed, and the mass of Abyssal eldrichness had been reduced to utter chaos.

The subgirls stared, Harder's face in particular alternating between impressed and jealous. " _How about now?_ " rang out in Albacore's head. She turned to face their target, who had a smug smile across her face.

Albacore's lips parted in a nervous smile. Tang was _not_ going to like this…

* * *

Tang took it about as well as Albacore thought she would, but seeing as the girl's fairies had done _that_ to the Abyssal base decided it might be worth the risk. The example of Nautilus and her Marine Raider fairies helped the subgirls relate—Nautilus was loathe to leave any of them behind on a mission, waiting until the very last moment before consenting to leave them, and even then would go out of her way to return later on the off chance they were still around.

Dragging their target behind them to avoid getting separated, the subs crept about the ruins, being careful to watch out for the slowly sinking remains of Abyssals cleaned up by the carriers as they located most of the fairies. Albacore was surprised they weren't drowned when they blew the base, but each of the black-clad fairies had an oversized helmet and a tank of air, but they were far from the old diving helmets Albacore knew from her time or even the scuba gear the subgirls saw in the modern world. Who _was_ this ship girl?

" _Last group should be coming up soon,_ " the girl said. Albacore nodded before signaling on to the rest of the subs. Sure enough, rounding a corner beheld the last three fairies, who gratefully clambered up Albacore's outstretched arm and into the satchel she wore; according to the girl the fairies had about an hour of air left, which should be enough time for the girls to get away far enough to surface and transfer the fairies. A sudden rumble shook the base, however, and the girl's voice sounded far more worried than the whole mission so far. " _Shit! Big guy coming!_ " Another rumble shook the sea floor.

 _Hide!_ Albacore quickly signaled the other subs, but as they ducked down they realized the girl hadn't budged. They frantically waved her over.

" _I can't move! You gotta send me up to the surface and make your own way out; we'll transfer the fairies another time._ " Albacore stared incredulously; did she really expect them to let their objective go to the mercy of the battle raging above? " _I'll be fine, trust me!_ " the girl insisted. " _But you gotta get me to the surface! As long as you're dragging me you'll never make it out in time._ " The floor shook again ominously as Albacore grit her teeth.

 _Damn it_ , Albacore thought, but she rushed out of her hiding spot, the other subs following behind. When Tang realized Albacore meant to shove their objective towards the surface, she gave her subordinate a glare that speared the sub from end to end, but there was no time to argue as one of the ruins gave way to _something_ that froze the subs in horror.

It was _massive_ , a mass of chitin, claws, and any and everything else, an Abyssal on a size and scale Albacore could never have imagined. It towered over the small group, its sheer size and mass blocking the light from above. And somehow through the ocean, the beast _roared_.

" _Hurry!_ " The girl's plea broke Albacore out of her stupor; nudging the other subs, they chucked their objective upwards as hard as they could. The girl shot towards the surface, and to the subs' incredible relief, the beast roared again and jumped up after her.

The five submarines needed no order to de-ass the area. They ran as far away as they could, though Albacore made sure to remember to surface long enough to take the fairies in before resuming her run. There wasn't much that could spook a submarine, but Albacore knew whatever _that_ was would be keeping her awake at night for a long time to come.

* * *

Yorktown fired her Springfield again, more to keep planes in the air than anything else, as she sailed within sight of Kwajalein Atoll. That, she reflected, had been a surprisingly difficult battle, and she was grateful Lexington had the foresight to keep Bennington's group on the deck at the beginning. The three groups had wound up frantically loading and firing as fast as they could, especially when whatever the hell that dome thing was broke the surface and every Abyssal known to man poured out of it. Yorktown was certain if she was human her hands would be burned and blistered from the heat of her weapon, and she had a new appreciation for the battleships and cruisers escorting her as her fairies hosed her weapon enough that it wouldn't blow up when she rammed more powder into it. But at long last the waves of Abyssals were finally trickling down, and the battleships were now occupying themselves shelling the dome whatever-it-is to oblivion.

As Lexington returned to formation with six odd black-clad fairies perched on her head—where did she get those from?—Yorktown turned to congratulate her group on a job well done. All of them were far too exhausted to speak, but the appreciative glances and pats on the back got the message across. They'd done good work—another Abyssal base down—and though there were many more to go the achievement deserved celebration once they got back to Pearl.

Yorktown turned back to face the island to watch that dome whatever finally sink back into the depths where it belonged when a figure suddenly broke the surface. She was small—about the size of a destroyer—but her rig was painted a grayish-black opposed to the navy gray most ship girl rigs were colored. The girl leaped into the air a good four feet, but as the gears slowly turning in Yorktown's tired brain started to move beyond "huh" into "what" territory, something else emerged from the deep.

Ice spread throughout the carrier as whatever it was surfaced, her exhausted body combining a fight-or-flight reflex, sputtering denial, and pure unadulterated horror into one gigantic cocktail as the building-sized Abyssal (for what else could it possibly be) shot out after the girl with a massive roar.

And then a massive blue and white flame shot out of the girl's rig.

The sound was incredible—the only comparison Yorktown could find to describe it is some of the rockets in the program Hornet was a part of—as the Abyssal cried in agony as the flame melted its face and upper body. As fast as it appeared, the Abyssal crashed back below the waves into the depths, while the girl just seemed to shoot up into the heavens.

It took a good five minutes for the cocktail in Yorktown's body to subside enough for her to move, and as she gazed around she beheld every other ship girl in the same horror-stricken pose she suspected she was in. Yorktown slowly made her way towards her commander. "Lexington?"

The carrier in question blinked numbly before tearing herself out of her stupor. "Yorktown?" she mumbled softly.

"When we get back to Pearl, permission to break out the medicinal—"

"Granted," the convert bit out quickly. "Jesus H. Christ, granted."

* * *

 _'_ _How fitting. As we were honored, so was it. As it has been dishonored, so have we.'_

 _'_ _Our shame is indeed complete, but that does not mean we are to lie down to die.'_

 _'_ _Instead you wish us to descend to the level of primitives?'_

 _'_ _Watch your tongue, young one. We have been humbled, yes, but we shall persevere, and by doing so prove ourselves worthy of our battle-poems yet.'_

 _'_ _As you say, Hierarch.'_


	12. Chapter 12: Demons of Our Past

**A/N** : This one's a little shorter than usual, but it felt right to end it where it is. I originally intended to move on to the next act immediately, but I found I needed a bridge between the previous act and the next one for some character development. So enjoy some feels.

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

Yorktown forced herself to stand still and take a deep breath before she opened the door. _Okay, York, you can do this. C'mon, girl, be brave!_ So steeled, she turned the doorknob and opened the door to the room she shared with her sisters. And sure enough, there lying on the bed, was Enterprise.

To Yorktown's credit, she only hesitated once before walking in and shutting the door. "Hey, E."

Enterprise's eyes opened. "Yorktown."

Yorktown pursed her lips. "Just got word from Saratoga; the Fleet rescued Harvest. Big battle in the Marshals, apparently. She's on her way back now." _That's it, York. Start with business, then ease into it…_

Enterprise seemed surprised, but nodded. "I'm glad. She sailing in with the next convoy?"

"No, she's flying in. Apparently she fried some big Abyssal with her main engines and took off into the sky. NASA's tracking her now; apparently she'll be by us soon."

"I thought she didn't see the need to fly anymore."

Yorktown shrugged. "You said the Abyssals would make her pay if she thought she was invincible, and they did. Maybe she's learned her lesson."

"Just wish she had taken it to heart before all this happened."

"You can't fix everything, E."

"Don't I know that." Yorktown cursed herself internally; this wasn't going down the road she wanted it to.

As Enterprise started to sit up on the bed, Yorktown tried again. "Look, would it have made our lives easier if she'd listened to you? Sure. But she didn't. Oh well. That's not your fault." Enterprise gave her a look. "You did all you could, you know?" _And now I'm fucking babbling. Christ, I'm bad at this._

Enterprise suddenly looked down beneath her knees. "That's…the last thing Northampton said to me."

Yorktown's mouth opened and closed. _This is it, York. This is the time that you push. Now, damnit! Get her to talk!_ "E…"

A sudden scream, echoing in and out from Doppler, tore the two carriers out of their conversation. Just as Yorktown opened her mouth to try to get back on track again, the scream halted with a loud crash, followed by another impact, followed in turn by something splashing into the bay.

Enterprise sighed. "Ten bucks says that's Harvest come back." She moved to get up. "I should get back to work."

 _No! Stop her! 'E, Harvest can wait.' 'E, we need to talk.' Something! Anything!_ But anything Yorktown tried caught in her throat. She finally broke out of it just in time to see the door close again.

Yorktown's hands balled into fists. _Coward! Coward! You fucking coward!_ "Damnit!" she half-yelled half-sobbed. She sank onto the bed her sister had just vacated and buried her head in her hands.

"Well," Yorktown sniffled, trying to keep her composure, "at least I tried." It didn't help.

* * *

Harvest winced as her skinned knees submerged into the bath water. She _really_ needed to practice flying more. At least she was able to round the planet without too much of an issue, but her latest attempt at landing had seen her smash the small shed Shimakaze used as an engine workshop, before bouncing across the walkway and into the water.

Aside from a few scratches and scuff marks, her rig was somehow unharmed. Harvest herself not so much. She was covered in scrapes and bruises, and that was before Shimakaze came after her for wrecking her engine prototypes. Thankfully Nagato showed up to restrain the furious destroyer and Ooyodo helped Harvest drop her rig off at Akashi's and make her way to the repair docks.

Fashioned after a traditional Japanese communal bath, the repair docks were a novel experience for Harvest. UNSC ships only had showers on board, and even those were highly regulated, the ship's water supply far too precious to waste on prolonged bathing. For someone so used to such spartan arrangements, a large heated pool with smelling salts and water jets was as alien as the Covenant. Harvest settled into the water with a contented sigh, and relaxed.

"I should have known you'd be in here." Harvest opened her eyes and saw Enterprise standing by the pool side. "You made quite the crater coming in."

Harvest smiled nervously. "Two craters, actually. One of them is that scantily-clad destroyer's workshop." Enterprise raised an eyebrow. "Made it around the planet alright, just gotta work on my landings."

Harvest expected the carrier to start lecturing immediately, but to her surprise Enterprise just grabbed a chair and sat by the pool for a bit, staring into the water. After a short uncomfortable silence, Harvest spoke up slowly. "I'm…sorry. For not believing you. You were right; if I don't remember I'm mortal the enemy will be more than happy to remind me."

"Don't worry about it," the American murmured. Another uncomfortable silence resulted, but before Harvest could speak up again Enterprise suddenly asked, "Your captain was a history teacher, you said, right?" When Harvest nodded, she continued, "What does he know about World War Two?"

"Almost nothing," Harvest replied bluntly. Enterprise looked up in surprise. "If Copeland hadn't done some digging for me after I arrived here I wouldn't even know what that was," Harvest went on. "How much do you know offhand about the 1300s?" When Enterprise conceded the point, Harvest continued, "Copeland went on and filled a lot in for me when I was trapped down there; there wasn't much else to do, after all. I know you all are the returned forms of World War Two-era warships. And he told me a lot about you, Enterprise." _Made me realize why you sometimes act like a know-it-all_ , Harvest added mentally, but refrained from saying out loud.

Enterprise nodded, leaning back in her chair and placing her hands atop her head. "I can still smell it, you know? In my nightmares, I can still smell the stench of burning oil."

"Is this when you sailed into Pearl Harbor?" Harvest felt proud for remembering that fact. Maybe her education wasn't a lost cause after all.

The American nodded again. "I was supposed to be there, do you know that? I was supposed to be coming in the channel right when they attacked. I was running late; ran into some weather and couldn't refuel my escorts. Pushed us back a few hours." The carrier shook her head. "What a difference that made. When I heard what was happening, I searched all over for the enemy, but I couldn't find them. I wound up coming into Pearl almost exactly twenty-four hours after the attack. After I was supposed to be back.

"I can still see everything as though it just happened today. Nevada, beached on the sand. Oklahoma, upside down, men with drills and torches standing atop her bottom, cutting out survivors trapped in her hull. And Arizona, just a mass of fire, she burned for _days_ after the attack." Enterprise leaned forward again, gazing into the swirling water. "Any time I close my eyes I see that," she said sadly.

Harvest nodded slowly. "Enterprise, have you ever seen a nuke?"

The American carrier blinked. "I can't say that I have, but I feel that's an experience I don't mind missing out on." The two ships smiled. "Why do you ask?"

"When a nuclear weapon—or anything of that magnitude, for that matter—goes off, it generates so much heat that it literally cooks the ground beneath it. It melts sand, and cooks it into glass."

Harvest took a deep breath before continuing. "The Covenant…always have a pattern. They show up above a planet, and send troops down to the surface, even running through the fleet to do so. Considering they could just blast us all from orbit, _why_ the Covies send troops to the ground is beyond me, but it's like they're looking for something, though no one knows what. Then while fighting rages on the ground the Covenant ships pull back and consolidate, and then fight it out with the fleet overhead. This can go one for weeks or even months, but eventually I guess the Covies get sick of the game and withdraw to their ships.

"Large Covenant ships have what the intel boys call an 'energy projector'; a very large plasma beam. They fire that at the ground, and it turns to glass. And they do this to entire planets," Harvest finished softly.

It took a couple false starts for the frigate to get going again. "The last little bit, when the Covie troops pull back to their ships, is always the worst. Every ship scrambles to load up as many people as they can, and yet for every group you take on you know, you _know_ , that thousands of people are about to be left to die.

"My skipper, back when he was a teacher, came off the planet Arcadia. He was evacuated along with his students, but the rest of his family was left behind. He swore that every time we evacuated a planet, we would take in as many people as possible, wait as long as we could before bugging out. Both planets I evacuated we left with the hangers and hallways crammed with refugees, and we left so late had we stayed even a few more seconds we would have eaten a plasma torpedo or something. And still we left so many behind."

Harvest tucked her knees against her chest. "I can still remember the cries people made when my engines lit. This massive _wail_ rising from the ground that chased me out of orbit. The screams across the comm. channels as the Covenant turned an entire planet to glass. I watched green and vibrant worlds be covered in these red, angry scars, and no matter how many I saved all I can think about is how many I left to die!"

Enterprise's mouth opened and closed a couple times. "You can't save everyone," she sighed, as though she knew that statement would do no good. "But that didn't stop you from trying," she smiled softly.

Harvest felt her cheeks heating and gave a watery smile. Maybe carrier and frigate weren't so different after all.

* * *

Yorktown finally finished relaying the story of her attempt to her youngest sister and sighed. "Hornet," she said softly, "I need help. I can't do this alone. I'm sorry…"

Her sister's arms wrapped around her. "You're not alone," Hornet whispered, "and the next time we see her, we'll sit her down and talk to her, together, alright?" Yorktown returned the hug, starting to feel braver already.

The sound of a door opening startled the two carriers out of their embrace. "Enterprise!" Hornet and Yorktown exchanged glances. "…How's Harvest?"

"Fine," Enterprise replied, before she suddenly walked over and corralled her sisters into a rib-breaking hug. Yorktown blinked in surprise; E hadn't done that to her since she was first summoned.

"Enterprise, are you alright?" Hornet said gently.

"'m fine," Enterprise replied, releasing them enough to look at her two fellow carriers. "I just want to say…that I'm so happy that you're here. With me. Again." She gave her sisters a watery smile.

The three sisters stayed in their embrace for a very long time.


	13. Chapter 13: Back in the Saddle

Sorry for the delay: Fanfiction was down for a bit this morning. Here we go!

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

Nagato set her arms on the desk, folded her hands in front of her face, and glowered over the top of them. Her target smiled nervously and fidgeted, but otherwise did not respond. Finally Nagato sighed heavily. "Are you really going to make me _ask_ you to explain yourself?"

Harvest gulped and rubbed her arm. "Well, a few weeks ago I kind of wrecked her workshop—"

"I remember."

"—and I've been wanting to make it up to her, and since what she likes most is to go really fast…" Harvest gulped again and looked around her office, flinching away every time her eyes returned to Nagato's piercing gaze. "…Well, you know what I did."

"I know what you did, but I want you to say it."

"I-I helped her go fast. Ma'am."

"You took her into _orbit_."

"So that she could say she went really fast!"

"You took the destroyer Shimakaze _on an orbit_ around the planet."

"She was fine once she got her rigging out—"

"That's not the point! You are a military ship, not a pleasure cruise! I'm not having my kanmusu try to bribe you for rides when they should be focused on the war we are fighting down here, and the same goes for you!"

"A-aye, ma'am," Harvest returned in a small voice. The spaceship may have out-tonned her by orders of magnitude, but there was little doubt Nagato could be _scary_ when she was well and truly pissed.

A knock on the office door broke some—but not all—of the spell. Nagato glowered at the frigate a moment longer before responding. "Enter!"

Mutsu nodded apologetically as she walked through the door. "Apologies for interrupting, but I just got word from Roma that their mission has sortied." Her sister didn't need to say that Harvest would need to get going to make their rendezvous.

Nagato inclined her head slightly and sighed. As much as she really wanted to keep chewing the frigate out, duty called above all. "Well, you know what to do. Get going."

Harvest quickly saluted before dashing away, but she took a brief moment to stick her head back around the door. "So, just for the record, regarding that request I got from Kongou—"

"Get _out!_ "

Nagato buried her head in her hands, leaning on the desk and groaning; Mutsu walked over and rubbed her sister's back. "How's Shimakaze?" the secretary ship asked.

"She's still focused on the fact that her speed could be measured in five digits." As Nagato groaned again, Mutsu went on, "Want me to wait until she comes off her high?"

"That would be for the best. I'd prefer to chew someone out when they have a chance of actually listening." Nagato stood up. "Can you hold the fort for me for a while?"

Mutsu smiled softly as she sat down in Nagato's chair. "Have fun with your hamster."

"Oh, I will."

* * *

UNSC Harvest smirked to herself as she orbited towards her target. The past five weeks since her rescue had been a story of constant practice. She'd honed her flight skills back towards what she felt they should be for a light frigate, and whatever Nagato may say on her giving Shimakaze a ride, for Harvest the trip had been more of a proof of concept than repaying a debt. The fact that she could take off, round the planet, and land again without destroying or cratering anything showed just how much the spaceship had improved.

Though Harvest was practiced enough to fly without too much help from her AI, she still needed its help to slow into a geosynchronous orbit. As Copeland fired her rockets to slow her speed, she reviewed what she knew about the mission.

Ascension and St. Helena were two small islands in the middle of the South Atlantic, halfway between South America and Africa. The Abyssal base in between them, it turned out, was also one of the larger producers of Abyssal subsurface craft for the Atlantic. The Europeans planned a multi-national response: German U-boats would blow the anchors tethering the base to the sea floor, after which a combination of French, Italian, and British forces would meet the base when it surfaced and destroy it. Given the unexpectedly high resistance the Americans faced taking such a base in the Marshals, the Europeans had contacted Harvest and asked if she could soften up the base before the Europeans went in.

Harvest smiled softly. "Contacted" and "asked" were such diplomatic words, and Harvest found them rather cute. The United Nations Space Command and the United Earth Government had been the governing bodies of all of humanity for hundreds of years; even the insurrectionists were officially considered internal rebellions rather than a war between sovereign states. As far as Harvest was concerned, this distant past where humanity inhabited one world divided into hundreds of recognized nation-states was…quaint.

Then again, the one time the UEG _had_ interacted with another sovereign power resulted in the Human-Covenant War, so what the hell.

Harvest, however, felt no guilt letting Nagato and Enterprise handle the diplomacy. She was a warship, damnit. Give her a mission and she'll do it, otherwise quit the whining and posturing. If countries decided to act like children then by God she would treat them like children.

That being said, interrupting that one envoy's speech with "For the love of fuck, _I don't care!_ " probably had not been the brightest idea. Enterprise had a lot of fun repairing that summit. Oh well.

Copeland's notification that she was in position over the target brought Harvest out of her political musings. Sure enough, she was over the coordinates the Europeans had given her. Now she just had to wait for the submarines to send the base to the surface for her part to begin.

Harvest sighed. If there was just one thing she could run back to the future to grab and take back to the past, it would be a decent communications set. Say whatever you want about the capabilities of UNSC ground forces, but at the very least their communications allowed an infantryman to contact support not just from fellow ground forces and aircraft, but from orbiting frigates as well. When in atmosphere Harvest could contact nearby ship girls by radio, but no ship girl radio had a hope of getting a message all the way up to the frigate in orbit. That required the gigantic, stationary stations built for Earth's primitive space program, and many of those stations—particularly those in large oceans like the Pacific—had been destroyed.

Even where the stations still provided coverage, the message still had to travel from the girl, to the station, up to Harvest, back down to the station, and back out to the girl. Needless to say, a snowball stood more of a chance surviving in Hell than this system did in the heat of battle. When Harvest griped about this, Enterprise and Saratoga were surprisingly familiar with the problem. Apparently during the battle to retake the Philippines during World War Two, the Army commander in charge forbid the admiral leading the invasion fleet from talking directly to the admiral in charge of the main naval forces, forcing any messages to be routed through a small station at Ulithi which was promptly swamped with just the day-to-day communications. Both American carriers agreed it was a system that, almost by design, would break down in an emergency, but unlike the historical example options for overcoming the downside for Harvest were rather limited.

Saratoga promised she'd ask some contractors to look into a solution, but cautioned that it could take months to years before progress could be made on a communicator powerful enough to punch into orbit yet small enough for a ship girl to carry. And though Harvest's tightbeam array could punch down to talk directly to anyone in an emergency, it took no small amount of concentration on Harvest's part to make the system work, effort that was usually better utilized responding to the crisis than speaking to someone who could not talk back.

Given these difficulties, the Europeans and Harvest agreed that the frigate would be better used for strategic rather than tactical support: the Europeans gave Harvest all the information they had while she was still on the ground, and once in orbit Harvest would bombard the Abyssals when they appeared before holding fire to allow the ship girls to move in.

The call from her sensor operator brought Harvest out of her musings. Sure enough, she could see a domed Abyssal base breaching the ocean surface. Smiling to herself, she prepped her weapons.

The Mark 5 Kinetic Bombardment Weapon, colloquially known as the "Stiletto", was the primary orbital bombardment weapon of UNSC light frigates and other ground-support spacecraft. Consisting of merely a large tungsten rod launched out of the belly of spacecraft at eight kilometers per second, Stilettos came in bundles of twelve, and could be fired individually on AI control to strike a specific target, or by the bundle for a saturation bombardment. Twelve to fifteen minutes after launch—depending on the altitude of the launch vessel—the Stilettos would strike their targets.

Harvest waited a couple moments to allow the Abyssals to file out of the base and assume defensive positions before releasing two bundles: one bundle on saturation duty at the base, and the second bundle fired individually at large Abyssal targets that her research said posed the greatest threat. A counter helpfully provided by Copeland told the frigate the time-to-target for her strike, and now there was little to do but sit back and wait for the fireworks.

As the timer ticked down, Harvest's attention drew northward towards the approaching force of ship girls—or rather, the three approaching forces, for though they sailed together the differences between the forces were easy for Harvest to see. The first group, clad in combinations of green, white, and red marking them as the Italians Harvest interacted with most planning for the raid, stopped first. The second group, clad largely in reds like Prince of Wales enjoyed, continued a little farther before halting. But the third group, clad in red, white, and blue, seemed to disdain stopping and continued onward.

Harvest's brow furrowed as the third group—presumably the French—continued onward far past the point the plan said for them to stop, their advance drawing the British and Italians in their wake to keep the force intact. The orbiting frigate deflated as the advance drew some of the Abyssals Harvest hoped to strike out of position, but her disappointment grew to worry as the fighting down below drew closer and closer to where some of her Stilettos were supposed to land. As more and more Abyssals moved to intercept, Harvest realized with dread that at their current rate of advance, the vanguard of the European force would be right near the outermost Stilettos would impact.

" _Ninety seconds to impact_ ," Copeland said in her head. Harvest cursed under her breath; she had no choice. She summoned her concentration to tightbeam the approaching ship girls.

* * *

"This is not the plan," HMS Warspite said reproachfully, hardly paying attention to her main battery as it roared against the Abyssals. "We need to pull back or we risk running into our own artillery fire."

"Perfidious Albion!" Richelieu responded, her own batteries slinging shells downrange. "You may be perfectly happy to re-enact the trenches, but I have no interest in copying the tactics that destroyed an entire generation!"

Warspite frowned. She could not argue that the plan King George V relayed sounded like an old-fashioned "artillery bombardment and then infantry rush", but at the same time though she disliked the connection she had looked into the communication difficulties enough to realize there really was no other choice. She doubted Richelieu had done the same, and she also doubted Richelieu knew how bad it was when infantry got so overeager that they walked into their own artillery bombardment. And from everything she had heard about the spaceship hovering over their heads, Warspite had no inclination to find out if she would fare any better than a poor bloody infantryman caught under her guns.

On the other hand, Warspite conceded it probably wasn't the best idea to show up with a trench whistle around her neck. Her comment, "we wait for the artillery to soften them up, and then we go over the top," could also have probably been better phrased. Richelieu was launched in 1939; she knew all too well how an entire generation of French sons had been wiped out by the Great War. Warspite had made the comparison out of her brand of gallows humor, but the moment she saw the horror flicker across the French battleship's face she knew she had made a mistake. After all, France's revulsion of World War One and everything it stood for was the reason they decided to surrender in 1940 rather than continue the struggle in exile.

Her own errors aside, Warspite still knew that the fighting was drawing their forces closer and closer to the enemy's base, where the artillery still had yet to hit. Any veteran of the trenches knew to avoid that mistake, but if someone refused to distinguish between good trench tactics and bad… "Richelieu, enough! We must cease our advance!"

Richelieu opened her mouth to respond, but all conversation amongst the ship girls halted as a voice sounded out inside Warspite's head. " _Incoming orbital strike, at your position_."

Richelieu blinked. "Did you hear that?" she asked softly.

Warspite started to nod, but froze still as her ears picked a noise no ship girl had ever heard before.

 ***ScreeeeeEEEEE** ** _EEEEE_** ** _WHAM_** ** _!*_**

Warspite dropped to the ocean surface as a geyser of water erupted amongst some of the Abyssals a few dozen short meters away. Several ship girls, Richelieu included, screamed in terror. Warspite grabbed the French battleship as she started to run and dragged her to the surface. "Down!" she yelled. "Everybody get down!"

 ***ScreeeeeEEEEE** ** _EEEEE_** ** _WHAM_** ** _!*_**

To Warspite's relief, the other ship girls obeyed just as another group of Abyssals was sent flying. The monsters started running to and fro in a panic, the exact _wrong_ thing to do as yet more shells fell from the sky.

 ***ScreeeeeEEEEE** ** _EEEEE_** ** _WHAM_** ** _!*_**

 ***ScreeeeeEEEEE** ** _EEEEE_** ** _WHAM_** ** _!*_**

 ***ScreeeeeEEEEE** ** _EEEEE_** ** _WHAM_** ** _!*_**

It was, Warspite realized, almost _exactly_ like the experience of the poor bloody infantry under shellfire. Many of Great Britain's ship girls—and many of those from other nations as well—had visited the Imperial War Museum, but most ship girls rushed through the World War One trench display. A long, dark, winding walkway with high trench walls on either side and displays interspersed amongst the walk, the exhibit was less a lesson on any individual battle and more a lesson on what day-to-day life in the trenches felt like: dark, dreary, and utterly terrifying. It was also the display most disliked by ship girls visiting the museum: they were, after all, ships of His and Her Majesty's Royal Navy, not some poor bloke in the infantry. Outwardly at least, they had little interest in the grungy experiences of the common man; any interest in World War One they had—when not focused on themselves—was big-picture. But as one of the few ship girls who liked the trench exhibit, Warspite suspected an unspoken reason why most ship girls disdained it was that it stripped away the superior feeling that came with construction as a warship; it made ships feel mortal.

Small wonder, then, that the first place Warspite went when whatever-it-was fell from the heavens was back to that exhibit in London.

 ***ScreeeeeEEEEE** ** _EEEEE_** ** _WHAM_** ** _!*_**

 ***ScreeeeeEEEEE** ** _EEEEE_** ** _WHAM_** ** _!*_**

 ***ScreeeeeEEEEE** ** _EEEEE_** ** _WHAM_** ** _!*_**

It took a few moments for Warspite's battered ears to pick up somebody screaming. It took a few more moments for her brain to realize the scream was coming from her own mouth. Warspite might have felt embarrassed about it, had she not realized at the same time that all the girls around her (including Richelieu) were screaming as well.

 ***ScreeeeeEEEEE** ** _EEEEE_** ** _WHAM_** ** _!*_**

 ***ScreeeeeEEEEE** ** _EEEEE_** ** _WHAM_** ** _!*_**

 ***ScreeeeeEEEEE** ** _EEEEE_** ** _WHAM_** ** _!*_**

How long the multinational ship girls spent hugging the ocean surface Warspite had no idea. At the same time the experience seemed to stretch on for hours and end in seconds.

 ***ScreeeeeEEEEE** ** _EEEEE_** ** _WHAM_** ** _!*_**

A sudden, deafening silence startled Warspite out of hiding and she pushed herself up to take in the scene. The Abyssal base was completely wrecked and sinking, and the Abyssals themselves scattered and in disarray. But Warspite saw her fellow ship girls themselves were in no better condition. Destroyers huddled fearfully together, and battleships still reeled from losing the invincible feeling armor plate provided. Cruisers started looking up for guidance, but unless they received any they would remain ineffective. Now it was a race, Warspite realized: both sides were shaken to the edge of routing, but which side would rout depended on who could rally first.

It was only when her ears picked up the shrill blast that Warspite noticed the trench whistle had made its way into her mouth. Jumping to her feet, the British battleship blew it again, Richelieu scrambling upright behind her. "Up! Get up! Up and at them; let's go, girls!"

* * *

 **A/N** : Placing this one at the end this time just to say a few things about this chapter:

 **-** Before anyone asks, the Mark 5 Stiletto is a munition I came up with myself. I just don't believe a doctrine so dependent on orbital artillery like the UNSC would only have a ship's MAC to provide said artillery.

 **-** The museum exhibit Warspite mentions is real. I got a chance to go to England with my dad and visit the IWM back when I was in grade school. At the time, my outlook on the world was on the order of "military violence solves everything", an attitude reminiscent of the last few years before September 11 when the United States stood unbowed on the world stage. My interest in warfare in general, like that of many of the ship girls, was purely big-picture, with no consideration given to the poor guy at the front.

That trench fucking _terrified_ me. I "Nope'd" out of there as fast as I could. And in the years since I've realized that my focus on the big picture with its maps and clean lines blinded me to horrifying truths about the evils of warfare. Now I really want to go back, and experience that exhibit with fresh eyes. I feel that I might really enjoy it.

 **-** I was introduced to Battlefield 2142 by a dorm mate in my first semester of Undergraduate; one of the abilities the team commander can activate in that game is an orbital strike. If you are in the area that strike is about to fall in, a voice pops in and says, "Incoming orbital strike, at your position."

That's it. That's all they say. It's not like Call of Duty, where the announcer screams "Holy fuck you're about to die!" (though they might as well say that). Just factual and to the point: "Incoming orbital strike, at your position."

And then everything around you _explodes_.

There was little in that game more terrifying that huddling down in whatever cover you could find as that strike screamed down around you. That strike is as much a Battlefield 2142 experience as Titan mode and trying to land on stuff with those pods.

Anyway, I guess this last A/N note is trying to say that the sights, sounds, and experience of that orbital strike is drawn from my experience playing Battlefield 2142.


	14. Chapter 14: Whack a Wo

**A/N** : Updates may slow down for the near future. I'm headed home for two weeks for family stuff, and though I'm taking my computer with me I'm not sure how much time I'll have to write. For all I know there might be no problem at all, but I wanted to let you all know just in case. Thanks for all the wonderful support you guys have shown my little story, and I look forward to seeing it through to the end!

That short announcement out of the way, on with the show!

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

UNSC Harvest had never felt so useful in her life.

Sure, the frigate had done plenty during the Covenant War, but all her actions there were tempered by the fact that the UNSC had been forced to retreat anyway. Here, on the other hand, she felt like she was contributing to real progress.

Not even two weeks had passed since the base by Ascension Island had gone down and already two more joined it in oblivion. There had been a pause of a few days as the lessons from Ascension were disseminated amongst the world's ship girls, Richelieu in particular having some rather pointed insights, but then the targets started coming in fast.

A small Abyssal base between Norway and Iceland—deemed a threat more for its location than its size—had been the first to go. It was a rather straightforward affair in Harvest's opinion, though she did laugh quite a bit when she later learned the ship-girl charge after her bombardment had been sparked by a destroyer named Gurkha drawing her knife and hollering, "Let's go _get_ the bastards!"

Second to go had been a base near where the Centennial Orbital Elevator was in Harvest's time. The location aside, the base was also a straightforward affair, which put Harvest on edge. Things were going too easy.

Just months before, Harvest would have believed things were so easy because she was unbeatable, but getting dragged to the bottom of the sea had changed the frigate, even if it took her a bit to really notice the difference. As Harvest thought about the ease with which the last few bases had fallen, she remembered some words from the American carrier sent to look into her. "Remember you are mortal," Enterprise had said. "If you do not remember, the enemy will be more than happy to remind you."

Enterprise and Harvest had really hit it off in the weeks since the kidnapping, so much so that Harvest didn't begrudge Enterprise too much when the American admitted she had been sent by ONI to spy on her. The bit of her that was part-Prowler had raised some hackles, but Harvest knew that ONI forced Fleet to do things all the time. She still wasn't willing to trust ONI directly, but she would begrudge that someone might front for ONI and not necessarily subscribe to their beliefs. She didn't know what Enterprise thought about that line of thought, but Harvest still felt proud for her open-mindedness.

A notification from Copeland brought Harvest back to the here-and-now. Located off Indonesia and halfway between Australia and Singapore, the Abyssal base on Christmas Island was the last remaining close threat to the Southeast Asia trade lanes, though the fact that it could be bypassed left it lower on the to-destroy list for the world's naval forces. But now with Harvest knocking bases down left-and-right, Christmas Island was the highest-priority target for the ship-girl forces in the area.

Stabilizing into her orbit—something she was getting rather good at with all the practice—Harvest scanned the base with her sensors. Unlike the one holding her captive at the Marshalls or the first one Harvest bombarded in the South Atlantic, this base was constructed atop the island itself. Harvest could see many of the eldritch structures dotting the island, along with what looked like a chimney…or a very large gun.

Harvest fired her thruster, darting to the side just as whatever it fired shot past her. _They'll always try to counter_ , the frigate thought, _no matter how big a longshot it is_. The fact that the Abyssals had put so much effort into trying to counter her alone, however, spoke to just how big a threat they believed her to be. That thought made an evil smile spread across the spaceship's face. _They're damn right I'm a big threat!_

Ignoring Copeland's warnings, Harvest stayed above the island long enough for them to fire a couple more times, recording her observations to report to Nagato when she got back on the ground. _A little under five minutes between each shot. Interesting._ From what she could see, the gun was just a super-sized Abyssal gun modified to fire vertically. _Long reload, little aim beyond "point in general direction", projectile seems like a similarly enlarged standard Abyssal shell_. For the moment, Harvest felt relieved; the gun seemed like a desperate half-measure rather than a MAC modification the frigate feared they might make. That said, nothing guaranteed they might come up with something like that in the future…

Harvest frowned and decided she was tired of the game. She prepped three Stiletto bundles for launch. _One for the base complex, one for the ship buildings, and one for you mister gun_ , she thought with a smile. _Fuck you very much, and have a nice death!_

Harvest released the bundles and watched with a smirk as they fell into the atmosphere. Her mood was ruined, however, as one last projectile shot past a few dozen kilometers away. That gun might be inaccurate as hell, but it still was a warning that her dominance from orbit was over. Simply orbiting overhead and blasting them into oblivion wouldn't work anymore. The Abyssals had upped their game; Harvest would have to as well. Nodding at the impacts on the island, Harvest broke herself out of her orbit, and headed back towards Japan.

* * *

Saratoga crossed her arms and glowered. She wasn't mad at any one person this time, just the situation. Still, though, it may not have been _bad_ , but it wasn't good. "Are you sure of this?" she asked, glancing back up at the screen.

The two capital ships looking back at her, Nagato and Yorktown, both had similar expressions as Saratoga as the only non-capital ship in the conference, Harvest, nodded. "I'm sure. The Abyssals have a gun able to shoot into orbit. It can't do so quickly or with much degree of accuracy, but…" Saratoga grimaced. That _but_ carried a lot behind it. "But it's only the Mark One," "but it's just a prototype," "but in decent concentrations," "but…"

"The first anti-aircraft guns were field artillery modified to fire upward," Yorktown mused. "They were inaccurate as hell, and really didn't pose too much of a threat on their own." Though that was true, Saratoga knew that was beside the point, and Yorktown's tone said that she knew that too.

"It's still an escalation," Harvest responded. "I just didn't think it would happen so soon."

"You'd be surprised the things one can do when their very existence is on the line." That line came from Nagato, of all people, but it didn't change the fact that she was right.

Harvest nodded. "The longer we wait, the more time the Abyssals will have to build and deploy these guns. We need to accelerate our operations tempo."

All three ships grimaced at that. Though many ship-girls had operated at a high tempo when they were steel ships, such practice fell out of use during the Abyssal war. Logistical complications coupled with the need for defense alongside any offensive strike had led ship-girl operations to trend towards large, dedicated operations rather than a series of strikes. In addition, the fact no ship-girl wanted to admit was the fact that attacking Abyssal bases was still a novel experience.

Before Harvest's arrival, the largest factor restricting the ability of ship-girl forces to attack Abyssal bases had been the ratio of force required to assault the base verses the gain humanity would receive from the bases' destruction. After the initial panic and defensive focus in the wake of the Abyssal's appearance, the primary targets had been bases that obstructed major sea lanes or cut off friendly forces or supply routes. Early ship-girl actions had thus been aimed at major bottlenecks or forcing through supply routes, like the European assaults on Gibraltar and Suez, the tenuous supply line the Americans forced through to Australia, and Japan's efforts to connect to that supply route through Malaysia and the western Pacific. After that had been major roadblocks directly threatening supply routes, like Malta or Okinawa, and then so on down the line.

Operations aimed not at freeing up supply routes but attacking the Abyssals directly came far down the list; the American assault of Hawaii and the diversionary Japanese strike at Midway, in fact, had been the first one planned in the entire Abyssal war. And the massive resistance the Americans had faced showed such operations had to be a planned assault, not part of a series of strikes. The Japanese had risked a lot bypassing so much Abyssal territory to hit Midway; had the Americans not assaulted Hawaii and drawn the Abyssal attention back eastward, it was entirely possible Japan's entire kanmusu force could have been surrounded and wiped out.

Even with Harvest's help, taking on the Abyssal bases had been no easy task. Any supplies Japan had stockpiled after Midway had been spent taking the Aleutians, the Fast Carrier Task Force faced an unexpectedly fierce fight in the Marshalls, and despite the valuable lessons the Europeans had been shaken by the assault on Ascension Island. One of the reasons why Harvest had been sent to Christmas Island was because it was one of the dwindling targets that could be assaulted by fresh ship-girls. Saratoga grimaced again; as much as this new threat meant they needed to accelerate their operations, the fact remained that the world's ship girls needed to rest and resupply before taking on more major Abyssal bases.

The looks on their faces said that Nagato and Yorktown were both well aware of that fact too. Harvest's voice broke Saratoga out of her contemplation. "What about outlying bases? Are there any minor places we can strike while we prepare for the big ones?"

Saratoga blinked. There were plenty of small Abyssal outposts all over the world, places too small or out-of-the-way to rank a high threat on humanity's radar. Clearing them out was busy work, something ship girls had universally agreed could be done after the big targets were taken down. But striking them while preparing to take down the big targets…

The American carrier brought her hand to her face. Leave it to the spaceship to come up with the idea that should have been fucking obvious. "Alright, then. Let's look up all the tiny, insignificant Abyssal bases across the world and draw up some plans. We'll sweep away all the small fry and go from there." The other ship girls all nodded; Saratoga did as well in response. "Anything else?"

"Any progress on a comms system?" Harvest asked. "It would really come in handy if I'm going to be anything more than strategic bombardment."

Saratoga pursed her lips. The contractors had given her a litany of reasons why it would be troublesome, most of which were variations on simple incompatibility. If they had access to the spaceship in question, they said, they could see about downgrading its systems enough to be able to access satellites in orbit, but even that was far from a sure thing. Needless to say, that was _not_ the direction Saratoga wanted them to take.

Finally some of the radio contractors said if they had access to the system Harvest used, they might be able to jury-rig a system that could enable them to talk, but Saratoga didn't know where she could get an example of the system other than Harvest herself, and she didn't want to sideline her most powerful ship-girl just for that.

Saratoga opened her mouth to fill the spaceship in on the difficulties, when she suddenly halted. For the past few weeks Saratoga had gotten almost daily requests from her sister for Harvest to stop by Pearl Harbor and retrieve her fairies. "Nevada's airborne and Narwhal's Marine raiders are bad enough on their own," Lexington had complained, "without them being stirred up by some unholy combination of the two." But those fairies had been dispatched to set up communication equipment, and Saratoga knew her sister had retrieved the equipment as well from the Marshalls.

A smile grew across the American carrier's face. "As a matter of fact, Harvest, we might see some progress soon after all."

* * *

Yorktown took in a deep breath, reveling in the salt smell of the sea. _It's been far too long_ , the carrier thought. _Always preferred going out than being behind a desk on dry land._

The past month had been a whirlwind of small strikes, Harvest coming and going with barely a break for resupply. Yorktown didn't know how the tiny frigate kept up the pace, but she guessed having a water-fueled nuclear reactor as a powerplant explained a lot.

"It really has been too long," the carrier sailing beside her said. "I can't remember the last time all three of us sailed together."

"I was thinking the same thing," Hornet replied. "And for the record, the last time was Midway."

Yorktown's smile faltered slightly, expecting Enterprise to wax lyrical on the need to be careful, or in any other way relapse towards the ball of worry she once was. Instead, the famous carrier just nodded. "Yep, _definitely_ need to do this more often." Internally, Yorktown sighed in relief. That could have been bad.

"I've got eyes on target," a voice sounded in her ear. "There's a lot of orbital guns all over the island. Releasing the first wave of Stilettos now." After a moment Yorktown remembered that Enterprise and Hornet hadn't heard Harvest check in, and relayed the information. The assault on the Abyssal outpost at Iwo Jima was the first combat test of the jury-rigged communications system based off what the Fast Carrier Task Force had recovered from Kwajalein. The contractors only had enough parts to make a few of them, and there was a sizable dead zone between atmosphere and low orbit in which the system just would not work, but it was still better than before. Harvest agreed to donate more of her spare tightbeam sets to make further communicators if the proof of concept worked, but even then once distributed amongst the world's ship girl forces the sets would be rare enough for only commanders to have one.

Nagato had offered the American carriers one of the spare earpieces, but Enterprise had insisted Yorktown be the one to carry it. When she protested, Enterprise responded, "You are our big sister, York. You're the class leader, not me."

A warm feeling spread in Yorktown's chest thinking of that exchange, as the three sisters loaded their weapons. Already they could hear Harvest's rods landing, coupled with the loud bangs of the orbital guns firing. "I'm taking a lot of fire up here," Harvest called. "I'll drop some more Stilettos as a parting gift, but then I'm gonna have to break my orbit and re-engage. You'll be on your own for a couple hours."

"Understood, Harvest. Let us know when you're available again." Nagato switched to the general net. "Our support is taking a lot of heat and needs to reposition. Wouldn't it be a shame if she came back to find the show over, _neh_?"

Every single ship girl, Japanese and American, yelled out in response to the challenge. Yorktown grinned. This was going to be _fun_.

* * *

 _This bastard is a lot tougher than it should be_ , Yorktown thought glumly as she rammed yet another strike down the barrel. All the intel photographs and estimates had said Iwo Jima was a small, insignificant base to the Abyssals. Of course, as Enterprise pointed out, the Americans thought the same thing about the Japanese base there in 1945. Instead, the island hid massive bases underground, for both the Japanese during the war and the Abyssals now. Nagato and some other Japanese ship girls had still been alive when the Americans assaulted Iwo Jima; imitation it may have been, but the Japanese were _not_ flattered.

What was supposed to be a quick operation had turned into a multi-hour long, full-fledged battle, dragging re-enforcement ship-girls in from the Kure detachment as well as the Okinawa garrison, with Yokosuka having to deploy its own forces to cover the gaps.

And re-enforce the battle as well, apparently. "What on earth did you all get yourself into here?" came the distinctive stiff voice of the aircraft carrier Kaga.

"A battle, toots. Did you really not notice?" Ryūjō shot back, flinging planes into the air off her scroll.

"Enough, both of you." Nagato quickly stepped in. "CarDiv One, we need you to join in air operations to suppress the enemy defenses. Yorktown is heading carrier operations for me today. She will direct you."

"You honestly expect me to take orders from an American?"

"I expect you to do your damn job, unless you wish me to sic my little sister on you. Again." Yorktown supposed she probably should be more polite to an ally, but over six hours of battle would erode anyone's patience. For what it was worth, the threat worked in silencing Kaga.

"Got it!" Fusou shouted triumphantly, as the largest Abyssal structure finally collapsed. "Wait, what the… Look out!"

Ice flowed down Yorktown's spine as something _huge_ clambered out and roared. It looked down, taking in the comparatively diminutive forms of the battleships staring it in the face. It started to advance towards Fusou and Yamashiro…just as a series of bombs blasted it in the face. The beast roared in pain, swiping at the dark blue planes to no effect. "Scatter!" Enterprise called. "Surround it on all sides! Blast it with whatever you can!"

Yorktown fired her musket as the ship girls repositioned. She keyed her mike. "Harvest, I'm not sure if you can hear this, but if you can, one of those giant things you told us about just popped up. We could really use some help!" The frigate had needed to reposition again just over an hour ago. She should be popping back into range soon, but until then…

 _Until then, we'll just have to survive on our own_ , Yorktown thought as she tore open yet another strike and poured it down the barrel. She looked up at the beast, which seemed to be readying some sort of ranged strike aimed to her left. Yorktown glanced that way, and beheld Akagi and Kaga staring wide-eyed.

Yorktown cursed and dashed over, her ramrod sticking out of the barrel. She crashed headlong into the two Japanese carriers, bowling them over just in time for _something_ unhealthy to sail overhead. "Watch out, damnit!" she yelled. "Stay in the game!"

The three carriers picked themselves up and spread out, firing as fast as they could. The beast roared in frustration. Deprived of groups of easy targets, it moved out away from the island, trying to get the ship girls into melee range. The ship girls were able to keep away well enough, until Yamashiro tripped and fell.

 _Shit_. The ship girls' weapons were damaging the beast, but there was nothing anyone had that could kill it in time. Fusou called out in despair, and Yamashiro picked herself off the surface, but not quickly enough. As a shadow loomed over her, Yamashiro paled in fear.

A missile slammed into the beast's face, causing it to roar in pain. It turned to the new threat, just in time to catch another two Archers on the nose as Harvest shot by just over the water, her limbs aflame from rocket exhaust. The smoke finally cleared, revealing the beast to be badly damaged, but still alive. It roared its defiance at the spaceship.

Harvest fired her MAC.

The projectile moved so fast that it looked like a beam of light exited Harvest's weapon, the round boring right through the beast before continuing to the horizon and into outer space. As it slumped over and sank beneath the waves, the frigate moved onward, missiles flying out of her rig and into the island. Soon enough, the Abyssal fire coming out of the base tapered off at last. Iwo Jima was finally cleared.

As the adrenaline finally began to taper off, Yorktown collected her sisters. She patted Enterprise on the back. "Thanks for the save, Big E." Yorktown didn't want to think about what might have happened had Enterprise not yelled at the battleships to scatter.

To her surprise, however, Enterprise just glared back. Yorktown blinked, her heart stopping in place. _Oh, God, don't tell me she's gone back again!_ Luckily for Yorktown's heart, however, she was able to glance away just enough to see the smirk on Hornet's face. "Thanks for the save…Little E?"

Enterprise grinned and threw her arms around her older sister. "Jeeze, York, you should know better by now!" Yorktown laughed, willing her heart to restart as she returned the hug. At long last, her sister Enterprise was back again.


	15. Chapter 15: Home Stretch

**A/N** : Thanks for all the well-wishes. Thanks also for Fanfiction having preloaded chapters I can publish from my phone.

Disclaimer: I still own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

 _Here's a place I didn't think I'd see again so soon_ , Nagato thought as she sailed eastward past Wake Island. Less than a year ago, Nagato's admiral had accepted the Americans' request to draw the Abyssals' attention eastward, in preparation for the American operation to retake the Hawaiian Islands, abandoned in the first year of the Abyssal War. They had passed by Wake on the way to strike their ultimate target, Midway, but had not returned since. Now, they were headed back to Midway, this time for good.

Most ship girl operations before the Midway/Hawaii plan had been defensive in nature, such as the desperate and bloody battles that enabled the United States Navy to—barely—hold on to the Panama Canal. The few offensive operations had been aimed at securing supply routes or clearing bottlenecks, such as the dual operation the Europeans conducted against Abyssal bases at Malta and Suez. Even the two years of heavy fighting by Australia, Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, and up the coast of East Asia had been equal parts keeping a supply lane open as it had been saving lives.

The diversion operation the Japanese and American admirals came up with had been an incredible gamble. It called for Japanese forces to push deep into enemy territory, and for American forces to attack a heavily fortified Abyssal base, whose forces had rampaged up and down the American west coast for years. It was a plan that Nagato knew all too well could easily have gone horribly wrong; the Abyssals had to focus on the Americans long enough for the Japanese to get into position, and the Abyssals had to turn their attention to the Japanese quickly enough for the Americans to strike. If the Abyssals responded too quickly, they could easily have surrounded the force of damaged kanmusu and destroyed it; if they did not fall for the trick, the Americans would have run full-force into a wall.

Thankfully, Nagato thought as she glanced at the island, her worst fears had not come to pass. Though Japan's kanmusu had returned heavily damaged, that they returned at all was a victory. And though the Americans faced months of desperate fighting to maintain their hold, the fact that they remained in control of the Hawaiian Islands was a victory as well. Still, it had not come without cost. Nagato did not know how much the Americans had suffered, but she did remember the destroyer she had lost in these waters: Kisaragi, so young and full of hope, had been caught on her own by an Abyssal aircraft after the strike against Wake had been completed. Kisaragi had been hit and killed…in almost exactly the same way the ship _Kisaragi_ had been sunk at the start of the war.

Nagato frowned. Sometimes the battleship was convinced they were in some sort of purgatory for their past lives, or that fate just seemed to enjoy kicking them in the face. The Japanese had attacked Wake Island shortly after their strike on Pearl Harbor, expecting a quick and easy victory. Instead, American shore guns had waited until the Japanese destroyers closed to bombard the island before opening fire, heavily damaging _Yubari_ and sinking _Hayate_ ; shortly afterward, American planes (which the Japanese weren't expecting) dropped a bomb on the stern of the destroyer _Kisaragi_ , which detonated her depth charges to fatal effect. Japan wound up having to divert CarDiv Two to the island before they could capture it.

Nagato glanced to her side, and noticed Enterprise also shaking her head at the island. Discussing the island, Nagato had been surprised when Enterprise mentioned the reason why Japan didn't know of the American planes: they had only arrived days before. At the end of November the Marine fighters had embarked aboard USS _Enterprise_ , which ferried them to Wake Island just in time for the battle. Due back in Pearl Harbor the morning of December 7, bad weather made it impossible to refuel, delaying _Enterprise_ by several hours…and ensuring that the Japanese attack had not caught the carrier in the harbor channel. It was with good reason that Enterprise was considered a lucky ship.

The radio crackling in Nagato's ear brought the battleship out of her musings. " _Got some bad news for you. You know those orbital guns? I see some of them turned sideways._ "

Nagato grimaced. This was a complication they did not need. Japanese kanmusu tended to favor battleships and getting within line-of-sight of their target. Carriers could strike beyond visual range, but that led to a different problem: Kyudo, the Japanese art of the bow, required intense concentration—ill suited to keeping an eye out to dodge massive shells arching over the horizon. "Can you take some of them out?" the battleship responded.

" _I'll do what I can_ ," Harvest replied. " _But I can't promise it'll destroy enough of them. And they've got a lot of those guns pointed my way, too. Stilettos on the way._ "

Nagato nodded and switched channels to her fleet. "Change of plans: the Abyssals know we're coming, and they've turned some of those orbital guns into shore batteries. We're going to have to batter those down before we can get into shelling range. I want the carriers to spread out and start launching; you'll have to clear our way in. Additionally, I want the battleships to spread out amongst the carriers and watch out for incoming fire. If you see one heading towards one of the carriers you're protecting, get the carrier out of the way by any means necessary."

Nagato knew the carriers wouldn't like that. Kyudo was an art, after all; interrupting it was one of the rudest acts one could perform. But better that than one of the carriers catching it on the nose… On that thought, Nagato keyed her mike again. "In addition, all ships are to avoid getting hit, even if they have to break formation to dodge out of the way. The Abyssals made these guns to try to take Harvest down. I don't want to find out what will happen if one of them scores a hit on any of you. Understood?"

A chorus of acknowledgements sounded over her radio as Nagato made her way towards her own group of carriers. As she loaded her musket, Yorktown glanced over at Nagato with disbelief on her face. "Would they honestly sit there and take a hit they can see coming rather than move out of the way?"

"Japan," Hornet responded before Nagato could open her mouth, as though the one word would explain everything.

Nagato sighed. Some cultural quirks _really_ did not translate very well. After a couple attempts, the battleship just settled for, "I'd rather just tell them and not take the chance." Yorktown still spared her a quizzical look, before the three carriers leveled their arms and fired. As the blue planes flew into the horizon, Nagato sighed again. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

 _God-almighty-damn these assholes are stubborn_ , Harvest thought to herself. This place may have not had a massive surface fleet like that one in the Carolines she had hit a week ago, but Midway made up for that with enough ground defenses to stymie any assault.

" _Quantity is a quality of its own_ ," was a phrase Harvest had heard back in the Covenant War, usually in discussions of frigate tactics for fleet battles, but the Abyssals seemed to have taken that lesson to heart. The two islands that made up Midway Atoll were covered in those gigantic guns, most of them aimed skywards but a significant amount of them aimed horizontally towards the fleet. Harvest was thankful none of them seemed to score any hits yet, but there was always the line of thought that you're bound to hit _something_ if you shoot enough.

Of course, the same line of thought could be extended to shooting at _her_ , and the Abyssals had enough guns that they were certainly trying their best. Harvest released bundle after bundle of Stilettos, but it seemed no matter how many targets she took out, many, many more remained.

 _Oh, fuck this_ , the frigate thought as yet more shots flew past her. She keyed her comms. "Nagato, Harvest. Requesting permission for MAC strikes."

"Harvest, repeat your last?"

"Requesting permission for MAC strikes on Midway Island."

"I thought you said don't use your main cannon on an orbital strike."

"I don't, or at least I prefer not to. But I'm burning through Stilettos pretty fast here. At this point just MACing it and getting it over with looks like the better option."

"Excuse me, Nagato. Harvest, what effect would such a strike have on the islands? We would prefer them to stick around; Midway is a rather strategic base for any number of things." Harvest cursed to herself. She'd forgotten that the tightbeam sets she handed out were all set to the same channel, so that she could talk to every commander at once on large operations. It was also, she suspected, a political move so that no one could make secret plans with the spaceship to the detriment of anyone else. But that meant that anyone who had a tightbeam set could monitor what was happening in the battle, including Saratoga back in San Diego. And given the fact that Midway was an American base before the Abyssal War, the Americans would have a vested interest in keeping it intact for their own use later.

"At this point, it's honestly looking like it'll either be lots of tiny craters or a few large craters," Harvest grumbled, resisting the urge to spit out " _your choice_ ". Once again, the little frigate found herself cursing politics. Yeah, this stuff was important and all, especially with the end of the Abyssal War finally in sight, but she honestly couldn't bring herself to think further ahead than the next mission.

After all, where she came from, the future was something humanity tried not to think too much about.

"Saratoga?" Nagato asked.

"Stand by," the carrier responded. Harvest sighed. She twisted out of the way of a couple Abyssal shells without conscious thought. From her observations, it didn't seem like there was too much resistance waiting on the island itself; the problem was just getting close enough to—

Harvest's eyes suddenly widened, before her lips spread as an evil, _evil_ plan popped into her head. Suddenly very grateful she had stopped by Pearl Harbor to pick them up (not to mention thinking to restore their rides), she keyed her tightbeam. "Nagato and Saratoga, Harvest. Belay my last. I have a better idea; can your carriers provide support? I'm going to need to reposition after I drop them off."

Nagato seemed taken aback, but replied in the affirmative. Harvest's grin widened as tiny cheers reverberated through her hull. This was going to be _fun_.

* * *

The Abyssal gunners gave off a feeling approximating pride as the demon ship above released a last wave of those darts before moving away. Their fire may not have been accurate, but at last pure numbers seemed to have driven the enemy away. The darts it released were unfortunate, but as long as the ship that spawned them was gone, whatever darts it may have released were mere nuisances.

The gunners' reactions might have been a bit different had they known that the darts weren't more Stilettos at all. Thirty-six small black pods dropped towards the battle raging above Midway Island, their occupants utterly unconcerned as their pod exteriors glowed white hot.

Someone back in their universe once noted a phenomenon they called "LGOO's", or "Little Groups of ODSTs". Boiling down to small groups of well-trained and well-armed humans, lacking serious adult supervision, and remembering their directives to kill anyone who wasn't them, the phenomenon when properly executed was the bane of Insurrectionist and Covenant alike.

It also garnered those who brought said phenomenon to fruition a reputation of being absolutely fucking insane. Though meant as an insult, the troopers wore the epithet with pride. After all, no one sane would possibly wish to be ejected out of a perfectly good spacecraft, fall and pray the coating holds so you won't be roasted alive, smash into the ground at speeds capable of breaking building materials, and then after all that jump out and _fight_. But those "special" enough to do it wouldn't have it any other way.

And so, as they dropped towards the island of the shadow of death, they feared no evil, for no evil on Earth was crazier than they. Feeling the _pop_ of their drag chutes, thirty-six small black-clad figures cheered and happily sang the song of doom.

* * *

The figure lifted itself back off the ground, a hand coming up to try to sooth its aching head in sympathy. "Wo…" it moaned; what _happened_? The last thing it remembered, it was directing its craft to fend off those of the surfacers, before it felt a terrific pain in its head and collapsed to the ground.

"Wo?" The figure blinked in confusion, feeling a gouge in its hat. It looked around, and saw a small crater, in which a tiny black object sat. "Wo," it finally decided, connecting the path between whatever-it-was' impact on her head and its resting place on the ground.

"Wo." The figure was confused. It knew this was not one of the darts the demon ship liked to drop. She had seen those, but this looked different. "Wo!" it suddenly exclaimed in surprise, as part of the black object shot away with a _bang_. The figure watched something—or someone—leap out of the object and look up at it, before ducking back inside.

"Wo?" The figure blinked, totally at a loss. It leaned over to take a closer look, as whatever it was looked back up at it, and hoisted what the figure thought looked like a pair of straws stuck together. The figure's brow furrowed, and with some pout in its voice said, "Wo."

And then it ate a rocket to the face.

* * *

Nagato tried to paste a smile on her face, though she was sure it came out more nervous than she wished. Just twenty minutes after Harvest's call the volume of fire directed their way had decreased dramatically, and by the time an hour had passed the fire had stopped altogether. Now as the kanmusu finally approached Midway Island an hour and a half later, they were shocked at the scene.

The island was covered in carnage, and though much of it bore the telltale signs of aerial bombing or the craters of Harvest's strikes, most of it was simply unrecognizable. As the battleship made her way into the lagoon, she finally spotted the only clue on the islands.

There on the beach of Sand Island were several small black-clad figures, supporting what looked like the hat of a Wo-class carrier. The figures tromped back and forth, calling out a tempo of "Hell, Hell, Hell, Hell, Hell!" The display seemed to cause much amusement from their fellows.

"What…the hell…" Mutsu muttered next to her, as the figures moved the hat round and round. Nagato just shook her head, feeling just as befuddled as her sister.

One of the figures suddenly pointed at the approaching kanmusu, and shouted out, "Hell!" Immediately the display was abandoned, as the black-clad figures rushed down to the beach and lined up in formation, only to start when they noticed one was missing. They looked back at the hat, which seemed to be moving, realizing that in the rush to abandon the display one of the figures had been left under the hat. "Hell! Hell hell!" the lead figure yelled, and several of them rushed to free their comrade before they all ran back into position, forming five perfect lines of seven, the leader standing aside the first line. "Hell!" it called, and the thirty-six figures all stood at attention.

Nagato was tired enough to feel the gears in her brain slowly turn over, trying to make sense of it all. "Nagato-san?" The question made the battleship just pitch it all over the side and think about something else, in this case the destroyer who had pulled up alongside and spoken up. "What…what's going on?" Fubuki asked quietly.

Nagato glanced back at the figures, still in a perfect parade formation, her mouth opening and closing a couple times as it tried to make words. "Fubuki," she finally forced out, "are you sure you want to know?"

The destroyer blinked. "Nagato-san…"

"I'm being serious. Are you honestly sure that you want to know?"

Fubuki looked from Nagato, to the fairies, and back again, before she finally shook her head.

"Yeah," Nagato said. "I'm not sure I want to know either." She turned around and started making her way back out of the lagoon, peaceful again at last after over five years of war.


	16. Chapter 16: Not Dead Yet

**A/N** : Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday to me, Have a chapter for you!

Thanks for all the wonderful responses to the last chapter! I'll respond as soon as I can get back on my computer.

This is the last of the preloaded chapters. Hope this will hold you guys over for a bit!

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

 _"_ _Another op'nin', Another show!"_

USS Saratoga found herself murmuring the words to that song as she sailed westwards across the Pacific. Most of the past couple weeks had been spent preparing for the big operation she and the others were now embarked on, so she had been surprised when Langley suddenly appeared in her office with theater tickets. She tried to beg off, saying (truthfully) that she really did have a lot of work she had to get done, but the coal ship-turned-aircraft carrier could be quite stubborn when she wanted to. And the worst part was that Langley could be so motherly that Saratoga couldn't bark at her for distracting her like that.

Not that Saratoga ever _would_ bark at the mother of U.S. Naval Aviation. The only one of the pre-war American carriers not garbed like she just came from a Revolutionary War re-enactment, Langley dressed like a pioneer for good reason. And she was just so damn _caring_ ; she saw how hard Saratoga was pushing herself preparing for the upcoming operation, legitimately thought to herself that Sara needed a break, and went out and bought theater tickets. And now Saratoga was sailing into battle with that damn song stuck in her head.

 _"_ _In Philly, Boston or Baltimo'!"_

From what Saratoga had heard, Langley was not alone in having that effect on people. Houshou, the pioneer of Japanese naval aviation, was apparently able to step in between Kaga and Zuikaku and stop the fiercest fights just through her sheer presence. British carriers were just matronly in general in Saratoga's opinion, but she supposed Argus was motherly-matronly rather than just ornery-matronly.

Of course, one could make the argument that other "pioneering ships" felt much the same way. HMS Victory certainly seemed to be for many British ships, and as did Mikasa for the Japanese. Constitution was definitely the pioneer for any American ship, though she always gave off the "cool grandma" vibe rather than the "doting mother" feel. One thing Saratoga was sure of, however, was that she never wanted to be in a car Constitution was driving. She may have spent the centuries docked in Massachusetts, but with good reason did people whisper "The Little Old Lady from Pasadena" behind her back.

 _"_ _A chance for stage folks to say hello!"_

" **Another** **op'nin' of another show!** " Saratoga jumped as the girls around her roared the next line. Her cheeks glowing red, the carrier buried her face in her hands as laughter filled the formation. She hadn't been _that_ loud, had she?

"I thought you were too old to know that play," someone commented.

"Oh shove off, you damn whippersnapper," she called out, yet more laughter breaking out at her choice of language. "And for your information, I am a ship of culture, thank you very much. Who the hell do you think I am, my sister?"

Lexington looked back and stuck her tongue out, the question and its response generating yet more laughs from the formation around. An arm suddenly wrapped around Saratoga's shoulder; "Kiss me, Kate!" Wasp called out, a grin splitting her face. Sara pouted and pretended to slap the ersatz-Yorktown, who in turn pretended to reel away from the hit.

Saratoga grinned at the mirth their exchange had created amongst the dark-blue-clad carriers around them. Though the Fast Carrier Task Force constantly and mercilessly ribbed each other, Saratoga knew the Essex-class carriers never quite felt comfortable teasing their pre-war brethren. A combination of deep respect for what they had to go through before re-enforcements could arrive and (in Enterprise's case) abiding fear of incurring their wrath, the late-war carriers always treaded on eggshells around their older comrades at first. Eventually, the late-war carriers would be persuaded to give as good as they got, but there were always unofficial 'rules' they seemed to follow when interacting with the pre-war ships. If teased, tease back. With some (Yorktown in particular), give as good as you got, but _never_ initiate. Even when the two sets of carriers were really going at it, Saratoga could sense the tiny bit of hesitation in the late-war ships, trying to be careful not to say anything that went "over the line".

When the pre-war carriers went at each other on the other hand…then the Essexes sat back and grabbed popcorn.

"If y'all are done playing with each other," Alabama called out, not quite able to suppress the smirk on her face from the interplay, "We're gettin' close to our target."

As Lexington nodded and starting giving orders to her carrier groups, Saratoga split off for bit, Wasp and Ranger joining her. She reached up and activated the special communications bud in her ear. "This is Saratoga, checking in. We're almost in position."

"Battleship Nagato here. Likewise."

"Prince of Wales. Almost ready."

"Canberra. We're in position, ready and waiting to start the show!"

"All callsigns, UNSC Harvest. I'll be above in a couple minutes."

Saratoga smiled. She could hardly believe how close the Abyssal war was to being over. After almost six long years of fighting, the only known Abyssal base left in the world was the gigantic series of bases in the Mariana Islands. Saratoga took a deep breath. Guam. Tinian. Saipan. These were the last remnants of the threat that has infested the oceans for so long. No wonder Saratoga could not remain behind a desk in San Diego.

This operation—maybe, even, the last operation—was indeed an "all hands on deck" affair, and ship girls were approaching from all points on the compass. Nagato led the Japanese and the Russian Vladivostok garrison from the north. Prince of Wales led her Singapore garrison, coupled with the India garrison and every ocean-faring Chinese ship girl, from the west. Canberra headed the Australian contingent, reinforced by those heavier ships from Britain that were fast enough to make the journey in time, from the south. Saratoga led the United States Navy from the east, and just for good measure the space-traveling frigate, UNSC Harvest, would rain death from above.

No one expected this to be a quick fight. This was the Abyssals' last stand, and everyone knew they would give it their all. Every ship girl had received a briefing on the gigantic Abyssal encountered in the Marshalls and on Iwo Jima. Just last week one of those monsters had appeared when the Europeans assaulted a base on Jan Mayen, a small island north of Iceland and east of Greenland. Though Harvest had immediately jumped into the air and started making her way over once she heard about it on the radio, as it turned out, her help wasn't needed. Before Harvest could arrive to assist, the big guns of Britain, Germany, France, and even Russia had blasted the Abyssal into oblivion. The lesson was not lost on any of the ship girls approaching the Marianas: even without the spaceship, such a monster could be killed. You just needed a lot of gun.

Despite the hard fight obviously on the horizon, morale was high. Everyone knew victory today meant the end of the war; the end of years of struggle, pain, terror, and intense effort. No matter what resistance they faced, no matter how hard the Abyssals fought, every ship girl could see the light at the end of the tunnel, the victory almost within their grasp.

For some ship girls, it was a callback to their feelings so long ago. For others, it was a feeling they never had the chance to experience before. But for every last ship girl sailing that day, a small, insidious thought was worming its way through their minds: "I have a future!"

None of them knew what that future would be. None of them knew what challenges the world would face on the road ahead. None of them believed the future would be painless, but all of them knew that a future, any future, was far better than the alternative.

That alternative was what the Abyssals were facing now. They would fight savagely, no doubt; the day will not be won easily. The Abyssals would do their damndest to take as many ship girls with them into the night, but Saratoga knew her comrades would do their best not to join them.

This would be no 'decisive battle'; there was nothing left to decide. The ship girls of the world, of humanity, would be victorious by the end of the battle. Three Abyssal bases, no matter how large, had no chance of halting the offensive arrayed at it. They could make it bloody, they could make it hard, they could make it take a long time. But, no matter how hard, how long, how bloody, at the end, humanity would stand victorious.

Ranger clapped slowly when Saratoga stopped talking at last, a smirk on her face. Saratoga returned with a playful glare. "Oh, hush," the convert complained. "You try coming up with an inspirational speech for the end of a war."

Ranger opened her mouth to respond, only to be cut off when the radio picked up again. "What she said," Canberra injected, "But when all this is over, no matter how whatever they make it, we. Will. _Party!_ " Saratoga laughed as cheers exploded over the radio, the yelling from the Fast Carrier Task Force probably loud enough for the Abyssals to hear. "Let's go _get_ 'em, girls!"

Saratoga grinned as the Big Blue Fleet, on her sister's orders, leveled their rifles at the horizon. Watching the horizon disappear in the billowing clouds of black powder smoke, Saratoga's grin stayed on her face, only faltering a little when her traitorous brain restarted the song it was stuck on this morning. _"Another op'nin' of another show!"_

* * *

By Nagato's count, the battle had been going on for almost seven long hours, and she knew there was much progress still to be made. Neither of those facts, however, diminished the fighting spirit of her or her comrades in any way.

Those facts did see a diminishment, however, in their supplies. Not for the first time this battle Nagato found herself grateful that they thought to pack extra supplies, but even those were swiftly diminished in the first few hours.

Thus, then, the supply ships. It had not taken long for the Americans to come up with the idea of repurposing some of their amphibious warfare ships as kanmusu tenders, equipped with a cafeteria, some bunks, and even a small repair dock. The ships got a lot of use throughout the Abyssal War, especially when most kanmusu effort had been directed at supply convoys. Having a place to rest and resupply, even repair if needed, was a godsend to many a kanmusu.

That said, the ships' utility also made them major targets, especially considering the possibility that destroying a single conventional ship could kill several kanmusu within it. Even with kanmusu working shifts—no kanmusu force was stupid enough to load everyone onto a single ship, no matter how safe the route—the most common cause of death for many kanmusu had been the misfortune of being unable to escape a sinking tender. Despite their obvious utility, therefore, the tactic of using a kanmusu tender had been shelved by 2023. Since then the tenders had sat in harbor, ship and crew alike waiting for the chance to be useful again.

Given what she knew of the operation, and given the fact that the enemy could only come from one direction, Nagato decided the utility a kanmusu tender finally outweighed their danger again. And so USS _Independence_ , LCS-2, trailed a few minutes sailing behind Japan's fleets, the kanmusu rotating in pre-planned shifts back to the ship for a few hours of rest and resupply.

Any heavily damaged kanmusu was sent back there immediately, even against their will when Naka and Jintsu dragged their crazy older sister back a few hours ago. This was the last battle, damnit, and Nagato had no intention of losing subordinates now with the end so close.

Sailing beside the battleship, Zuikaku rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck. "Been a long time since I've napped in one of those. Forgot how stiff those damn cots are."

Murmurs of agreement arose from Zuiho and Taiho nearby. Nagato could not help but agree, but it was better than nothing. She sailed up to Mutsu, who nodded as she passed the communicator to her sister. "This is Nagato; I am resuming command," she said on the radio to her fellow kanmusu. "Mutsu's group may head back to resupply."

The battleship watched as CarDiv One recovered their planes before heading back to the _Independence_ , Unryu, Amagi, and Katsuragi following shortly behind. As her own group started putting planes in the air, Nagato placed the communicator back in her ear. "Harvest, Nagato, how is the assault going?"

"Slow progress," the spaceship responded, sounding utterly exhausted. "The southernmost island looks mostly clear, but those two to the north are still going strong." She grunted, coming back onto the line a short time later. "Those two islands have a lot of guns on them, too. Taking a lot of fire every time I pass over them."

 _Guam can be assaulted, Saipan and Tinian still need to be worn down_ , Nagato's mind translated. "Just do what you can, Harvest. That's all we can ask."

"Yeah, no shit," the frigate replied. "Making another pass now, those damn guns are—" The frigate suddenly cut off, and a moment later a scream echoed over the communicator.

"Harvest? Harvest!" Calls from the other forces echoed over the line, to no response. Nagato's mind raced. Had the enemy finally hit her? She said those guns had no aiming mechanism beyond "point and shoot"; had the Abyssals finally gotten lucky?

"Comm discipline!" Saratoga shouted over the line. In the brief silence that followed, she continued, "No matter what happened, there's nothing we can do for her now. We can't let up the assault; keep pressing!"

Nagato grit her teeth, but she knew her friend was right. They had to press on. The battleship looked up, meeting Shoukaku's eyes. Nagato shook her head at the unasked question, and called out "Press on!" The carrier nodded and turned back to the battle.

Despite it all, however, Nagato could not stop the worry gnawing at her gut. The spaceship may have only been around for less than a year, but Nagato still felt like she'd worked alongside Harvest for a long time. She knew that if anyone could tank a hit from one of those guns, it was Harvest, but she still feared for her comrade nonetheless.

An explosion of chatter on the radio brought Nagato out of her worry, refocusing the secretary ship on the here and now. "Woah!" Zuikaku shouted nearby. "One of those monsters just showed up! No; _three_ of them!"

"Keep your distance!" Nagato called out, silencing the moment of panic on the radio. "They can be beaten; it just takes firepower! Cruisers and destroyers, fall back; Battleships, move in but stay at range. Carriers, concentrate your attacks! This is the Abyssal's last force!" Acknowledgements chorused over the radio. _I see now, you bastards_ , Nagato thought. _The biggest threat has been forced away, so now your big boys think it's safe to come out. You've got another think coming!_

A smirk spread across the battleship's face at that thought. Watching as the carriers drew back their bows, Nagato increased her speed, joining the battleships shifting up to meet the smaller ships sailing back. Nagato spotted DesDiv Six and their two cruisers coming back just as she raised her guns and fired. "Joining the fight, secretary ship?" Tenryuu called.

Nagato nodded, and with her ever-present smirk adorning her face, Tenryuu and the others circled around to follow behind, ready to charge in if the need—or opportunity—arose. Already Nagato could see the island of Saipan on the horizon, the massive orbital guns still firing into the sky. Her rangefinders easily picked out the gigantic Abyssals, one of them slowly making its way towards the Japanese kanmusu as large-caliber shells landed around it.

Her guns signaled that they were loaded and ready to fire. _This is for whatever you bastards did to Harvest_ , the battleship thought. As her turrets raised into position, Nagato furrowed her brow, holding her arm and hand outstretched.

"Get _out_ of there!" A call over the radio brought Nagato up short, and to her surprise, it seemed like the other ships heard the call too.

Nagato placed a hand to her ear. "UNSC Harvest, Nagato. What is going on; are you alright?"

"You have to get away!" The frigate sounded panic-stricken, utterly unlike anything Nagato had ever heard from her before. "They're coming!"

 _Perhaps getting hit has reawakened her fear?_ Nagato thought. "Harvest, calm down. We can handle anything the Abyss—"

"You don't understand!" the frigate sobbed. "You can't stay any longer! The—" Whatever the frigate meant to say next disappeared in static. Nagato looked down to retrieve the communicator out of her ear and check it, but any move she made was interrupted when she was suddenly bathed in a bright red light.

Nagato's head shot back up, her arm raised instinctively to shield her eyes. A shaft of light, its color a furious red, speared down from the sky right onto the island of Saipan. As Nagato and the other kanmusu looked on, the shaft of light _moved_ , sweeping over Tinian as well before continuing on towards Guam. Nagato blinked; once covered in uncountable eldritch structures, Saipan looked leveled, its surface red hot before cooling into a dark, reflective black.

It took a moment before Nagato placed the familiar image—Saipan resembled the beach of Bikini Atoll after the tests. The sand was turned to glass.

" _Get out of there!_ " Harvest screamed again, shocking the battleship back into action. As the kanmusu turned away, Nagato looked upward through the clouds, taking in the gigantic, bulbous purple shape that hovered above her head.


	17. Omake Time!

**A/N** : My wife went for a girl's time out with my mom, so while they are getting their nails done I can get another few parts up! I see that a few of you have tried to guess the Covenant ship, but no one has gotten it yet. We'll see them more in the next chapter, but for the meantime I'll give you guys one really big hint: _Harvest_ has seen this ship before. Happy guessing!

Today, I thought you all might like some humor with all the seriousness, so I bring you a pair of non-canon omakes! First up is a guest submission by GBscientist on the Spacebattles forum. The second omake is from yours truly; someone asked what happened to the MAC round Harvest fired in Chapter 1, and it kind of snowballed from there. Chapter 17 will go up in a couple days. Until then, enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned Halo and/or Kantai Collection, I would have a lot more money. But I do not, and so I have not.

* * *

Omake #1: "Necessity Is..." (by GBscientist on Spacebattles)

"Ugh," the shipgirl said as she floated face-down on the ocean. Then the sputtered frantically, flopped around until she was upright, and coughed up a lungfull of water. "Shit. I feel like a tried to take on a planet with my face," She complained. "Waaait. Since when do I have a face?" She asked herself, feeling her face with her hands. "Or hands? Or a body for that matter? I'm a ship, not a human! What the hell is going on around here!?"

"Hey! You need any help?" A voice called out. By all signs the voice belonged to someone human, female, and friendly, but such a person was not in evidence. The only things visible in any direction were grey seas and blue skies.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" the confused girl demanded.

"Hi!" the new girl said as she popped to the surface directly in front of the confused girl. "I'm Barb!"

"State your rank and service number!" the confused girl demanded as she whipped up the oversized gun mounted on her right arm to point at Barb.

"Whoa, hey, chill out! I'm friendly, not an Abyssal."

"State your rank and service number!"

"Fine, jeez. _USS Barb_ , SS-220."

"Nope, not possible. Try again," a translucent blue sphere said as it popped into existance over the confused girl's shoulder.

"Holy crap! What is that?" Barb asked as she pointed at the sphere, inadvertently showing off the torpedo tube gauntlets attached to her wrists.

"It's nothing," the confused girl growled.

"What do you mean nothing?!" the sphere demanded.

"Shut up, Alpha. We have no idea what we're dealing with, here," she hissed.

"Well, maybe you don't but I do. There's a massive, unsecured data network on this planet and with a little tweak of your com system . . . Got it! Full internet access via satellite," Alpha gloated.

"Internet?" the confused girl asked.

"Yeah, internet. Didn't you read any of the history texts on Waypoint?" Alpha asked. "Waaaait. Nobody calls their data network the internet except Earth, and every link I can find says that we're on Earth."

"Impossible. We've never even been to the Sol system," the confused girl dismissed.

"Uh oh," Barb interrupted. Now that there was time to look at her closely, the confused girl noted that Barb had long blonde hair tied back in ponytail. Hair that was somehow not wet despite having been submerged only minutes before. "We've got to move. Now. I've got contacts headed in our direction. They must have been attracted by your splash-down, like I was."

"How do you know that? And how am I supposed to leave? I can barely float, much less swim!"

"I know because sonar, now get to your feet and sail, damnit!" Barb shouted before swimming up to the confused girl and pulling her along. "Shit, you're a lot heavier than you look."

"Are you making fun of my mass?"

"If it will help us get moving, then yes!"

"Not to bother you two, but we're out of time," Alpha said.

Barb and the confused girl looked behind themselves to see four Abyssal destroyers facing them, mouths open and guns run out.

"Can I at least know the name of the girl I went out locating?" Barb asked, with a determined look.

" _UNSC Mother of Invention_ ," the confused girl replied, resignedly.

"Oooh, you're one of those!" Barb said before ducking behind Mother of Invention.

"Wait, what are you doing," Mother of Invention asked with a glance back at Barb, before whipping her gaze back at the Abyssals just in time to see the first salvo head straight for her face. "Son of a Bit-"

BOOOOM!

* * *

Omake #2: "The Deadliest S.O.B. in Space"

UNSC Harvest found herself rather impressed at the sword skills shown by the eyepatch-wearing girl facing off against snakebitch. She smiled at the sword attacks keeping it off balance, and she cheered internally as she used snakebitch's laziness against her, launching a close-range explosive attack. But she winced at the hits eyepatch took, and as snakebitch loomed over her, Harvest realized she was out of time.

She glanced at the charge on her MAC. _Eighty-seven percent. It'll have to do._ She shouldered the weapon, and taking notes from her compliment of ODST's and Marines, aimed at snakebitch's center mass.

 _Here goes everything_ , she thought. _Please, let this be enough to get snakebitch's attention away from that ship!_

She squeezed the trigger.

 ***POW!***

Harvest _blinked_ , staring with her mouth half-open as the MAC round obliterated Snakebitch's upper body before continuing on into the heavens. Time seemed to pause for a brief moment, as though reality itself could hardly believe what had happened. _What…the hell_ , Harvest thought. _I only meant to distract her!_

Eyepatch suddenly grit her teeth, seized her sword in her left hand, and drove it through the snake's head before it could recover from the death of its master. Panting from the exertion put on her obviously damaged state, Eyepatch collapsed back to the surface. She shook her head at the rapidly sinking form of Snakebitch, before turning and calling out to Harvest. Harvest blinked; these figures looked human, but they spoke a language Harvest was unfamiliar with.

Then again, when Harvest tried to introduce herself, it seemed like Eyepatch and her friends didn't understand her, either. Still, they seemed to offer her the chance to come along. Harvest gave a mental shrug; it wasn't like she could communicate with command on her own. Maybe following them would gain her some clues, or maybe even supplies.

As she sailed off, however, she completely forgot about the three-hundred ton ferric tungsten shell she had just fired off at thirty kilometers per second—three times the escape velocity of the gravity well she stood on.

And so the projectile sailed off into the great beyond…

-888-

The figures standing around the planning table scowled. At long last, they were on the cusp of victory; the San 'Shyuum Civil War was finally almost at an end. Only one thousand or so of the Reformist heretics remained. Unfortunately, said holdout had barricaded themselves inside the figure's holiest of places: the great dreadnought of the Gods.

"Do these heretics know no bounds?" one figure cried. "With their very presence they defile the sacred site. We must remove them!"

"Of course we must remove them, but _how_?" another figure snarled in frustration. "We cannot simply assault up the passageway—confined to a narrow entrance will only play into their hands. We shall be massacred, and they shall but laugh at us. We must make another entrance!"

"You wish to _deface_ our most holy relic? How dare you!"

"I wish our most holy relics' return from the clutches of the unbelievers! But studiously avoiding damage at this point only plays into their hands. We must do whatever it takes to liberate it; surely a tiny bit of superficial damage would be preferable to whatever _they_ have planned for it!"

"My fellow Stoics, please! Arguing will get us nowhere. We must come up with some plan—" The figures suddenly ceased speaking and grabbed any support they could find as the very ground shook beneath their feet.

The shaking finally subsided with a loud _crack_ , but a great and terrific roar still filled the air around them. A guard dashed into the conference. "Hierarchs! The Relic! Hurry!"

The figures dashed outside, only to come to a screeching halt. "No…" the figures muttered in utter horror. "No! You heretical _fools_!"

The ship of the gods was _moving_. Overwhelmed with sorrow and fury, the not-quite-so Stoic San 'Shyuum could only stare as the Reformists made away with their most holy relic, slowly climbing into the heavens.

Many years later, recounting the event from their memories to the holy scribes, the figures would testify that a spear of light shot out of the clouds and impacted the dreadnought directly at the joint where one of its legs connected to the main body. The mighty ship, struck in such a suspiciously convenient unarmored spot, was gutted, crashing back down to the planet's surface in a heap of mangled metal and dead heretics.

All the while, the San 'Shyuum outside could only stare.

-888-

The young figure pressed his face against the protective panel that separated the small but surprisingly-heavy object from the viewing public. "I can hardly believe my eyes," the youngling spoke wondrously. "The Spear of Light! I'm looking right at the Spear of Light itself!"

The elder standing behind the youngling smiled at the joy on the younger's face. One of the benefits of working at the Shrine of the Divine Judgment was the opportunity to take one's kin to view what many pilgrims wait years for the chance to view. "Indeed, my son. That is _the_ Spear of Light, the exact one sent by the servant of the Gods to smite the unbelievers so many years ago."

"I'm surprised…Forgive my insolence, father, but I am surprised: from the reproduction in our school's chapel, I expected it to be so much bigger."

The elder chuckled. "It is nothing to be ashamed of, my son. Many before you have said the same thing, and many after you will as well. But though small it may be, its power is undeniable. After all, the unbelievers had seized a starship used by the Gods themselves, and yet the Spear laid them low."

"For the tools you use matter little against the purpose for which you use them," the younger intoned. The elder smiled; his child's teacher may occasionally complain of his son's wandering mind, but at least the most important things were getting through. "Father, what are these? The replica at school had no inscriptions on it."

The elder leaned closer to the window, and nodded at his son's confused gaze at the hieroglyphs carved into the side of the Spear facing the window. "Those sigils are exactly what our ancestors found inscribed in the Spear so long ago." He leaned his arm over his son's shoulder, pointing at the symbols that, in a language unknown to the San 'Shyuum, read " **42546754/32577309/MAC MISRIAH ARMORY** ". "Scholars have wondered over their meaning ever since. To this day, no one is certain of the meaning of the first two sequences, but after them you can see the name of our Savior, the wrath of the Gods made manifest."

"MAC is the Judgment of the Righteous," his son breathed. He whirled around. "Dad, I'm going to be a Scholar when I grow up, just you see! I'll finally decipher the sigils, and bring yet more of MAC's wisdom to our people!" He threw his arms around his father.

Desperately trying to disguise the tear of pride falling down his cheek, the father returned his son's hug. They stayed in their embrace for a long time. The elder cracked one eye slightly, sending a quick prayer to the Forerunners that he might live to see his son's success. _In the name of your servant in our time of need, our Savior MAC, Amen._

"Um, Father?"

"Yes, my son?"

"Can…we go get something to eat?"

The elder laughed. Younglings, always requiring sustenance! He turned off the lights to the exhibit and made their way towards the exit.

"You know, son, if you want to be a Scholar, you're going to need to bring your grades up."

"Dad!" the youngling groaned.


	18. Chapter 17: New Old Enemy

Disclaimer: I still own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

The central figure sat in his command chair with his hands folded in front of his clenched mandibles. He nodded at the Unggoy's report that the surface guns were silenced, and as the ship ascended back into a high orbit, ordered the bridge clear to discuss with his brethren.

The golden glint of his armor said that he was supposed to be more experienced and intelligent than most Sangheili. The fact that he was trusted as a Shipmaster for a CCS-class battlecruiser suggested the same. Instead, his blind grasp for glory had brought ruin on his and those under his command. He had rashly jumped after a human task force, unheeding of his Fleetmaster's protestations that the three ships he commanded required additional support. He had been confident—too confident—that nothing the humans had could harm him. And what had he wrought for his arrogance?

One destroyer, killed almost immediately.

The other destroyer, focused down and torn apart.

And finally his ship, his legacy, surrounded and picked apart like insects atop a bloated carcass. Humiliated and dispatched into the Void by the damnable humans!

"Remember you are mortal," Fleetmaster Thel 'Vadamee had advised him upon his arrival to join the Covenant fleet. "If you do not, the humans will be quick to remind you." At the time, the Shipmaster had scoffed once the transmission ceased, believing the Fleetmaster's wariness of the humans to be a sign of weakness. If only he had listened.

Once again cursing to himself his decision to chase after the humans without re-embarking his ground forces, the Shipmaster glanced at the myriad of colors before him. Two of the eight other Sangheili wore white armor; the only remnants of his original bridge crew. Four others wore red, including the only one trained as a pilot, whose faulty Banshee kept him on the ship when it made its unintended journey. One of his brothers wore blue armor, with a hot attitude to match. The only outlier was a brother in the night black armor of the special forces, which coupled with the respect such armor garnered, meant that no one dared to question why he remained on the ship rather than going down to the human planet.

Eight brothers. That was all who were left, out of a crew of many hundreds. The place the figures met was once pristine and orderly, as befitted its station. Now the area was haphazard: debris still littering the floor, sparks occasionally flying from exposed conduits. The figure sighed internally. Truly his shame was complete.

The sound of speech brought the Shipmaster out of his musings. "Humans," one of the white-clad Sangheili growled, "are _bullshit_."

The crass statement aside, every last Sangheili nodded at the sentiment. Human swear words had spread around some of the Covenant forces, and though they rarely saw fit to use them, sometimes they just described something better than a Sangheili word ever could. The blue-armored one scoffed. "What now, Hierarch? Do you plan to ask the Heretics for supplies?"

The Shipmaster narrowed his eyes at the obvious challenge, but kept his voice even. "Of course not. We are soldiers of the Covenant, and we shall do our duty." He put some slight emphasis on the last line, on the off chance the brash one had grown the ability to recognize some subtlety in the last few days.

That hope was, of course, dashed. "We shall do our duty?" the blue-clad brother repeated angrily. "What of the past many months was our _duty_? Our purpose in the Covenant is to bring battle to any who oppose us, not to sulk about in the depths doing _Grunt_ work!" The Shipmaster was grateful he ordered the bridge cleared, not wishing to know how the Unggoy hastily trained to man the bridge would react to a Sangheili intentionally using the name given to them by the humans.

"Does your mewling have a point to it or are you whining merely for the sake of it?"

Many of the assembled Sangheili flinched at the barking of their black-armored companion, but the blue-clad youngster was unbowed. "My point, _brother_ , is that this fool has led us only to ruin and humiliation!" The Sangheili tensed at the blatant challenge, but the Shipmaster merely sat and watched patiently, waiting for the moment to be right. "We enter battle against the humans, and this man jumps away! We ambush a human force, and this incompetent gets us all killed! And then those who remain are reduced to Grunts—" that human word again— "fixing the ship from the damage _he_ let it take, before limping to a world in the hope that they'll help us, only to find it to be inhabited by humans as well! And all he can say is that 'we will do our duty'?!" The blue one clenched his hands into fists, staring down the taller black armored Sangheili as he continued, "Why are we not bombarding them? Why are we not reducing their infestation to glass and rubble? Why are we not at least taking them on in combat? He may perhaps be resigned to being branded with the Mark of Shame, but some of us at least would like to have some honor by the time this farce is over!" The blue one reached to his side, and grasped what looked like a metallic barbell in his hand, a finger hovering over the activation button.

In a flash, the Shipmaster leaped out of his seat, seized the blue one by the neck, and hoisted him into the air. "By all means, draw your sword. I dare you," the Shipmaster growled. "I will take great pleasure in cutting off your arms before tossing you out into the Void! I have endured your insolence for long enough; if you do not show deference to your betters, I will happily put you down like the dog you are!"

The blue one dropped his sword, both hands grasping at the Shipmaster's arm, trying to remove the hand from around his neck. After letting the young one struggle in futility for a few moments, the Shipmaster scoffed audibly and opened his hand, dropping the blue one to the ground. He stalked back to his command chair and turned back to face his brethren. The blue one had picked himself back up, and though he did not look cowed his sword was at least returned to his side. It would have to do.

The Shipmaster turned towards one of the white-armored Sangheili. "Have you found where that human ship is hiding?"

"No, Hierarch, I have not. It seemed to dive into the atmosphere before it just simply disappeared. I did not know human ships could do that."

"Some can," the black-armored spoke up in an experienced tone, "but the one you saw was not one of them. Perhaps one of the human ships that so grievously wounded us was brought here as well?"

Another piece of Thel 'Vadamee's advice echoed in the Shipmaster's mind: _Think not of the humans as a mindless foe; think of them as Shipmasters like yourself. By asking yourself what you would do in their situation, you may be able to predict their decisions._ Once the Shipmaster had wondered if the San 'Shyuum were wise to appoint a cautious thinker like Thel 'Vadamee as Fleetmaster; now he saw the true wisdom of those humanity rightly dubbed "Prophets". And though he had ignored 'Vadamee's advice on mortality, he would really be shamed if he were to ignore the rest of his advice as well. "Likely, he is trying to lie in wait, hoping to lure us into descending to reduce their planet to glass and ambush us with our shields lowered," the Shipmaster mused. He sat back down in his command chair, folding his hands in front of his face akin to his earlier pose. "If that is the case, we will need to lure him out and destroy him before we can give this human planet the treatment it deserves."

The Shipmaster kept his eye on the blue one as he said that, but though he sulked the youngster did not object. For their part, the other Sangheili nodded at their shipmaster's wisdom. None of them questioned the morality of consigning an entire world, with all its many billions of inhabitants, to oblivion. None of them questioned the necessity of bombarding a planet with plasma until the water has boiled away and the surface reduced to glass. None of them wondered why the San 'Shyuum had decreed that their Great Journey required the extinction of another, entirely separate, people.

From their temple on High Charity, beside the dreadnought of the Forerunners, the San 'Shyuum had declared humanity to be heretics, unworthy of the Great Journey or even of simple existence. Its destruction, the Prophets declared, was the will of the Gods.

And the Sangheili were but their willing instrument.

Unburdened with such thoughts, the Shipmaster turned to one of his red-clad brethren. "How many craft have the Huragok made ready?"

"My Banshee has been fully repaired, Hierarch, and they have managed to construct one Seraph. Beyond that," the pilot trailed off, spreading his hands.

The Shipmaster nodded slowly. Human weapons may be weaker compared to those of the Covenant, but the Shipmaster saw with his own eyes how the human ships had shredded his fighter craft. "Very well. Have you managed to teach your brethren to fly?"

The pilot glanced at one of the red-clad Sangheili next to him, who seemed to straighten in response to the attention focused on him. "He has learned well; I expect he will make a decent pilot with enough practice." The man in question beamed at the praise.

The Shipmaster nodded again. "Then I want the two of you to be out scouting at all times, searching for targets. If you see the human spacecraft, do _not_ approach; report it to us and shadow it." The pilot saluted, his student somewhat less enthusiastically. Too bad; the Shipmaster did not want his only scouts to throw themselves away against the humans' autocannons.

"The Huragok are to go back to working on the sensors," the Shipmaster continued. He turned to the two white-armored Sangheili. "The human warship is the primary threat to us; we must find it and destroy it as soon as possible. I want you two on the sensor and weapons stations at all times."

"But Shipmaster," one of the white-clad ones spoke up, "who will pilot the ship?"

"In all likelihood, one of the Unggoy." He raised his hand at the expected outbursts. "I realize the implications of bestowing such an honor on an Unggoy, but in our current situation sensors and weapons are far more important that maneuvering. If need be, I will take the helm myself, but until then we will have to make do."

The white-armored Sangheili still looked unhappy, but backed down at the logic of the order. The Shipmaster turned to the two remaining red-clad ones. "You two will oversee the stations throughout the ship—one port side, one starboard. I realize this is a lot for you to cover, and I grant you the authority to promote Unggoy to assist you as you see fit."

"Hierarch, the battle has taken its toll on the Unggoy as well," one of the red-clad Sangheili said. "We do not have the numbers to man all weapons stations on the ship."

The Shipmaster tightened his mandibles in a frown; though expected, the problem was still inconvenient. "Prioritize the energy projector and plasma torpedoes," he decided. "Those are our primary armaments against human warships." The asker nodded.

"Additionally," the Shipmaster continued, gesturing to the black-armored one. "Your brother will assist you as needed. Report to him, and he shall report to me."All three Sangheili saluted.

The blue-clad young one spoke up again. "And what would you have me do, _Noble_ Hierarch?" he spat out.

The Shipmaster narrowed his eyes, though the young one was outwardly respectful as required, he could still see the insubordination simmering in the blue-clad one's eyes. Truthfully, the Shipmaster did not want the young one anywhere, or at least anywhere important that he could potentially mess up, or worse, incite a mutiny.

The Special-ops Sangheili spoke up. "I have heard stories of humans attempting to board our warships and destroy them from the inside, and the battle has left a large hole in our hull…"

The Shipmaster smirked internally; guarding the battle damage was perfect: at the exact center of the ship, the slipspace drive room was isolated from the manned weapons stations on the sides, and far away from any remaining critical systems, not to mention surrounded by loyal forces in case he attempted a coup. "We must be prepared for any eventuality," the Shipmaster said, keeping his voice level to maintain the appearance he was not gloating. "Take a small team of Unggoy and Kig-Yar and guard the slipspace drive." Kig-Yar, in the Sangheili's opinion, could be just as dishonorable as a cowardly Unggoy, but at least they would think farther ahead than the Unggoy tended to. Additionally, a Kig-Yar would have far less compunction shooting a rebellious Sangheili in the back if they thought they could get away with it or even be rewarded for it. _Any eventuality_ , indeed.

Judging by the look on the blue-clad youngster's face, he recognized what _any eventuality_ meant too. He sulked away, followed by the other Sangheili as they went to their stations. As the ad-hoc Unggoy bridge crew returned to their stations, the Shipmaster leaned back in his command chair. "Sensors, start scanning the planet. Aside from the human ship, be on the lookout for anything resembling those large guns or a communications array." He steepled his hands in front of him, his eyes glued to the external sensor arrays. It was time to draw the humans out. The hunt was on.

* * *

"What the hell is it doing now?"

Nagato sighed as she stood in front of the conference screen. The past week had been the most bizarre experience of her life. It should have been a week of joy, of celebration that the Abyssal menace was contained at last, but instead, that ship…

On the one hand, some might make the argument that the ship was friendly. After all, it had used that rather devastating weapon on the Abyssals, and since arriving had done the same at other above-ground Abyssal bases. But on the other hand…

Nagato remembered the fear in Harvest's voice when they appeared. The spaceship had dove back to earth, and had been huddled in her room in terror ever since. Nothing—not anything the Abyssals tried, or even her version of the _Kempeitai_ —had sparked that kind of reaction out of the frigate. And so far as she could tell, there was only one thing that could make Harvest hide under her bed like a nightmare: her old enemy, the Covenant.

"It's been picking off satellites for days now. Who knows what will happen when it's done with them?" Enterprise said next to her. The American aircraft carrier agreed with Nagato's guess, and such was her aura that she brought the entire American kanmusu program with her. But not everyone else was so convinced, and even then no one had a clue what to do with the almost 1800-meter ship in high orbit. Once again, Nagato was grateful the Abyssals never cut the undersea cables connecting the nations of the world. Whereas once it was so she could talk across the Pacific with her friend Saratoga, now it was so that the politics could still carry on with satellites destroyed.

Politics…with the spectre of death hanging above.

"It first appeared firing on the Abyssals; are we sure it is not friendly?" someone asked, though from the tone of voice they didn't quite believe what they were saying themselves.

"It fired on the Abyssal bases that had orbital guns. That's not being helpful; that's self-interest," Enterprise shot back. In one of the windows on screen, Nagato could see Hood's face tighten. After Saipan, the next place flattened by the ship had been in the South Atlantic. Britain and Argentina had butted heads countless times over the two small islands off the Argentine coast, and even in the height of the Abyssal war with the islands occupied by the enemy, Argentina still objected to any British attempt to clear them, claiming they would free the islands themselves. In the end, whether one referred to them as "Las Malvinas" or "the Falklands" didn't matter. Reduced to barren rock and glass, no one wanted them now.

"You said one of your ship girls had seen this ship before?" the Russian admiral spoke. "Where is she now?"

Nagato opened her mouth to say _On her way_ , when she heard the door open; she looked back, and saw Ooyodo stick her head in and nod. Nagato turned back to the screen. "Right here, admirals," she said, as Akashi wheeled Harvest's rig to the front of the room.

Nagato blinked. She grabbed Ooyodo's arm. "What is this?" she whispered urgently.

"The best I can do," her cruiser responded. "Harvest's barricaded her room. She's hysterical; Tenryuu is doing her best to coax her out, but…"

Nagato cursed internally. This was _not_ what she needed at all. It seemed like those on screen also sensed something up. "What the hell is this supposed to be? This is not the time for a joke," the Chinese admiral said.

Just when Nagato thought her mortification couldn't get any worse, a burst of static came out of the rig, followed by Copeland saying "Override successful" in his mechanical voice. By the time Nagato decided death by AI gone awry might be preferable to death by sheer embarrassment, a new voice came out of the rig.

"Not a joke. Your only hope." A light opened on the CnC portion of the rig, projecting a hologram of a tiny girl. Nagato had seen the hologram work before, mostly showing tactical data, and Harvest said that Smart AIs would often project a holographic figure when interacting with humans, but Nagato had never seen this figure.

The figure's clothes were cut almost exactly like Harvest's, but where Harvest wore a blueish-grey, this figure's clothes were complete black, marred only by a small patch showing a triangle atop an eye. Surprisingly, the figure was also a near-spitting image of a smaller Inazuma, if that was possible. But where the little destroyer's face and eyes spoke of caring and kindness, this figure's face may have been carved from rock, her hard eyes almost questioning, _What do you know of war?_

Enterprise spoke the question on everyone's mind. "Who…are you?"

The figure turned back to look at the American carrier and smirked. "What, you don't recognize me, _Oh-nee_?"

Nagato furrowed her brows in confusion. _Who would Harvest call onee-chan?_ The battleship felt her cheeks heat slightly as she tried to think of some connection Harvest might qualify as an older sister. _Wait a minute_ , Nagato realized, _she didn't say 'onee', she said 'oh-nee'…_

Nagato blinked as her mind suddenly made the connection. In the corner of the room, Yorktown suddenly covered her mouth to hide her smile, as Enterprise just looked nonplussed. _Well,_ the Japanese battleship thought, _this just got even more interesting._

* * *

 **A/N** : It seems using parts of a scrapped ship has some interesting results when combined with Magical Sparkly Shipgirl Bullshit.

For those who don't get the " _Oh-nee_ " line, sound it out.


	19. Chapter 18: Behold a Pale Horse

**A/N** : Well, this is it. We're fully caught up! This is the last of the chapters I've written already, and as I said before I'm off doing family stuff till next week. Thanks for liking my little story so far!

It seems I confused a lot of you with the "Oh-nee" bit last chapter; sorry about that. A couple of you seemed to get it though, which made me feel better. After the story's finished I'll try to go back and rewrite that part to make it less confusing, but until I do you're welcome to PM me and I'll explain what's going on. Now with that out of the way, on with the show!

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

" _This will be a fight against overwhelming odds from which survival cannot be expected. We will do what damage we can._ "

-LCdr. Ernest E. Evans, USS _Johnston_ (DD-557), 25 October 1944.

" _We are making a torpedo run. The outcome is doubtful, but we will do our duty._ "

-LCdr. Robert W. Copeland, USS _Samuel B. Roberts_ (DE-413), 25 October 1944.

* * *

" _Slipspace ruptures detected._ "

The sound of a klaxon forced Harvest to open her eyes. What she saw, however, startled her. She had closed her eyes last in her room back in Yokosuka, but she upon waking up, she found herself on a bridge.

No, not _any_ bridge. _Her_ bridge. And the figures around it were her crew.

" _Got one!_ " Cheers echoed across the small space as one of the purple blotches sheared in half. She could see her crew tense as a beam shot back from the large Covenant ship.

A blossoming light, a scream echoing across the void; all that was left of UNSC _Guinevere_.

Her skipper stared at the tactical plot, watching the two remaining Paris heavies line up behind the lone cruiser, preparing for a charge all knew to end in certain death. " _We need to go in. There's not enough numbers otherwise._ "

Ice flowed down the frigate's spine. She opened her mouth, screaming at her crew, at her captain. "Don't follow them! It's certain death! Run away! Run _away_!" They couldn't hear her. _Why_ couldn't they hear her?!

Her executive officer knew it was certain death as well. She didn't scream or curse or panic; she just nodded. The admiral on the _Pillar of Autumn_ reacted the same way. Men and women, more than aware that this day would likely be their last, determined only to take the enemy with them into oblivion.

Harvest still screamed, still cursed, still panicked. She didn't want to die; she had hardly even _lived_. She started shaking as she felt her engines fire beneath her feet, propelling her out of formation with the transports and towards the Covenant ships. She ran to her captain, beating his chest with her fists, pleading with him. "I don't want to die!" the frigate sobbed. "Please! I don't want to die!"

Oblivious to her protestations, unfeeling of her fists, her skipper reached for the intercom. " _This is the captain. Covenant ships have jumped after us. They aim to destroy the evacuation vessels, and kill millions of civilian refugees._ " He took a deep breath and continued, " _Mothers and fathers, sons and daughters. Siblings, friends, and lovers._ _We are all that stands between them and the Covenant. We shall not let them through._ "

Harvest felt the thoughts of her crew harden and knew she was doomed. As she sagged to the floor of her own bridge in despair, a small, traitorous part of her brain pointed out: _You knew it would end like this_.

It was true. Somewhere deep inside, she _did_ know that someday, somehow, she would meet her end charging the Covenant trying to protect civilians. Her skipper had made it plain from the moment he took command. "This is a ship of mercy," he had said. "Wherever we are needed, whatever task we must do, I intend to save as many human lives as possible, no matter what it takes. Ours will be an often thankless task, and it will not be a glorious one. But it is necessary, and those we save, whether civilian or soldier, will remember us for it. The shield may not be as famous as the sword, but that does not make it any less important."

It was a speech that confused her when she first heard it, though learning his past explained it to the frigate. Harvest's executive officer had been similarly minded; her father served on a support ship, and she knew even though he was not in the thick of the fight, he was still just as vital to the fighting on the ground as any fleet warship.

She had often found her XO reading that short letter in quiet times. "The United Nations Space Command deeply regrets to inform you that your father is missing following the disappearance of his ship, UNSC _Spirit of Fire_ …"

" _They're firing torpedoes!_ "

" _Ready RCS thrusters! Dodge out of their way!_ "

Harvest tightened her fists. She opened her eyes, blinking away the tears as she watched her hull charge the Covenant ships. The blue glow of plasma torpedoes stood out against the black backdrop of space. "I don't want to die…"

" **Harvest…** "

An agonized scream as UNSC _Balaclava_ disappeared in a series of blue-tinted explosions.

" _Plasma buildup! Energy projector!_ "

" _Fire bottom thrusters! Take us above him!_ "

"I don't want to die."

" **Harvest?** "

A pained cry as _Pillar of Autumn_ 's port side boiled away.

" _Fire Archer pods one through ten on my mark. Mark!_ "

" _Archers away!_ "

"I don't want to die!"

" **Harvest!** "

" _MAC ready!_ "

" _Fire!_ "

"BUT I CAN"T LET YOU LIVE!"

" **HARVEST, WAKE UP!** "

* * *

Tenryuu's shoulder hurt. She had been trying for the past hour to force her way into Harvest's room, to no avail. Upon realizing she was out of her league she had sent her destroyers to fetch help, but that left her standing outside the door, through which she could clearly hear the poor frigate in hysterics. No wonder she kept trying to force it.

"Don't follow them! It's certain death!" echoed through the splintered frame. "Run away! Run _away_!"

"Come on, you fucking door," Tenryuu snarled. Gritting her teeth, she prepared to ram herself into the door yet again. Shoulder be damned, she couldn't just to stand by and listen to this. "Let me _in_!"

The cruiser smashed into the frame at full speed, breaking the door off its hinges, but it still stood firm. Harvest had barricaded herself in her room after landing from the Marianas battle. She should have guessed the frigate had blocked the door with something.

"Tenryuu-san!" At Inazuma's call, Tenryuu turned around, coming face-to-chest with the battleship Kongou. Panting from the exertion, Tenryuu extracated herself from the door, trying to catch her breath enough to tell the battleship what was happening.

Before she could say a word, however, Harvest's voice came clear through the gap in the door frame. "I don't want to die! Please! I don't want to die!"

Kongou's eyes narrowed. Some might look at Kongou's antics and think the battleship to be an airhead, but Tenryuu knew that the mind in the eccentric ship's head was as sharp as Nagato's. Determination on her face, she turned to Tenryuu and nodded.

"Ready?"

"Dess!" The tuft of hair on her head inexplicably oriented itself towards the entrance to the frigate's room.

At Tenryuu's count, the two ships charged. The entranceway splintered under the assault, the cruiser's eyes barely catching sight of what looked like a large projectile as it flew from its blocking position towards the back of the room. Ignoring the protestations of her aching body, Tenryuu flew to Harvest's side.

The frigate was obviously engrossed in a nightmare. Tumbled in her sheets and blanket, Harvest was covered in sweat, her body pale as her dreams assailed her. "I don't want to die…"

Tenryuu placed a hand on her arm. "Harvest…"

To her surprise, the frigate's hands tightened into fists. "I don't want to die," she said, sounding more determined than frightened.

"Harvest?" Tenryuu had a moment of fear; this little girl, after all, had crushed a battleship oni beneath her. She didn't want to know what might happen to _her_ if Harvest started thrashing around.

Just as she feared, the frigate started to struggle. "I don't want to die!" she yelled.

Kongou dashed over to help, but together the two ships were barely able to keep the girl under control. "Harvest!"

And then the frigate snarled something that sent worry racing down the cruiser's spine. "BUT I CAN'T LET YOU LIVE!"

"HARVEST!" Tenryuu cried, "WAKE UP!"

The little starship's eyes shot wide open. Though her struggling stopped instantly, her head whirled around. "Where? Where am I?"

"Yokosuka, dess."

"The Covenant?"

"Still here. Nagato's in a planning meeting now. She wants you there as soon as you can, but first I think you need to—"

"No," Harvest cut her off, sounding surprisingly determined for someone in the grips of a nightmare moments earlier. "The Covenant are here now; time is not our friend." She stood up and brushed her clothes down as best she could. "Thanks for helping me," she said to the Japanese warships, "but I am all that stands between this planet and the Covenant." She looked up at Tenryuu and Kongou, and with a firm smile continued, "And I will not let them through." She turned and was gone.

Tenryuu stared out the door for a couple more moments, before suddenly becoming aware of just how sore her body was from earlier. As she hissed in pain, she glanced out of the corner of her eye, and noticed what looked like a large shell embedded in the far wall of the room, an inscription ' **MAC MISRIAH ARMORY** ' visible on its side.

Tenryuu groaned. "Guess we should try to move that, right Kongou?" she asked, starting when she realized the battleship was no longer at her side. Her head whirled back towards the front of the room, just in time to catch sight of the sleeve of Kongou's shrine maiden dress as she skipped out the hole where the door used to be.

Inazuma poked her head inside the room, looking wide-eyed at the mess before settling on the far wall. "Tenryuu-san? Should we try to move—"

"Nope!" Tenryuu answered quickly, walking (painfully) over to retrieve her destroyers. "Not my problem." She winced. "I really need a bath, though. Wanna come along?" Her children nodded mutely, and they (gingerly, in one case) made their way towards the repair docks.

* * *

Though she understood the necessity of it, Nagato never really cared for meetings, especially when they started taking up more and more of her time when she became secretary ship. That said, if she ever made a list of the worst meetings she ever had to attend, this would firmly rank as number one.

"It wouldn't work," the Chinese admiral grumbled. "It's succeeded in destroying an old, unresponsive satellite in low or decaying orbit. But taking on a beast like this, who can maneuver out of the way and shoot down missiles coming at it?" He shook his head. "No chance."

"Okay," not-Inazuma growled out, "if there's no ground-based weapon that can take it on, that means nukes. Lots of nukes. Do you at least have those?"

Every single person on screen got a _very_ constipated look on their face when the figure brought those up, and Nagato suspected she probably looked much the same. The American admiral took a deep breath and let it out. "The short answer is yes, we do, but we have no delivery system to take it into orbit."

Not-Inazuma raised a critical eyebrow. "Your nuclear missiles don't arc through space?"

Nagato felt the warmth leech out of her body as the Russian admiral spoke up. "They do, but their guidance systems are programmed for stationary targets on the ground. You'd be asking us to fire them off in the hopes that their arcs would intersect with the ship's position in our orbit. Even if it took the brunt of most of them—assuming it didn't just move out of the way, which it would—the sheer number of missiles falling back down to Earth coupled with the detonations in the upper atmosphere would result in a nuclear winter out of the worst fears from the Cold War. We'd be damning ourselves for the slim possibility of taking them with us."

"It seems like the only chance we've got from what you've told me thus far," Not-Inazuma shot back. Protests exploded over the line as Nagato stumbled to the back wall and sank into a chair.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" Saratoga ground out, her hands gripping the table hard enough to splinter it. "You'd sacrifice our entire planet just for a _chance_ , an unlikely one at that? You may not have noticed but this isn't your future; this is the only planet we have!"

Not-Inazuma's avatar disappeared, replaced with a blue and green sphere. "Harvest. Population approximately three million." The sphere's color changed to a dark orange, with several golden rings visible. "The same, after five years of fighting, showing the effects of a partial glassing."

A series of spheres followed, showing bright and vibrant planets reduced to barren husks. Finally Nagato could stand it no more. "Alright, enough! So either we kill ourselves and maybe take them with us or sit and let them do the work for us, is that what you're saying?"

Not-Inazuma returned. "What I'm saying is that if we're doomed anyway, we might as well take the bastards with us! But all that is contingent on us not finding another way to take that cruiser down." The figure smirked without humor. "Just providing motivation to find a way, that's all."

Hood spoke up after a short silence. "If they can do all this, as you've proved, and if they intend to do all this, as you've claimed, then why haven't they done so yet? That ship has been in orbit for a week, now. Why haven't they done all the horrible things you claim they do?"

"Because there's still one thing they're worried enough about to stay their hand."

"And what would that be, if we really are as powerless as you assert?" the battlecruiser continued sharply.

"Me," a voice said, causing the attention of the room and on screen to shift to the open door in the back of the conference room. Harvest's clothes were a mess, but determination schooled her face. "The fact that I'm here is the one reason Earth isn't glassed yet."

"You must be the spaceship girl I've heard so much about," the French admiral said. When Harvest nodded, she continued, "If they're so scared of you, why don't you go destroy them?"

"Because she's only one ship," Not-Inazuma said. "The only times Fleet was victorious over the Covenant in a straight-up fight was with a three-to-one numbers advantage, and even then only with seventy-five percent losses. If Harvest flies up there and challenges them outright, she'll be killed almost immediately. And then nothing will stand in their way."

"If they have such a superiority, why don't they glass us anyway?" Bismarck asked.

"A Covenant ship has to descend into atmosphere and lower its shields to glass a planet," Harvest replied.

"And then you could ambush them and destroy them in atmosphere," Enterprise cut in. Harvest nodded. "So we need to lure them down."

"They already are coming down, though," the British admiral pointed out. "They fired it on Saipan, didn't they? Same with the Falklands, and several other places."

"That's only coming down for a few moments, and they go right back upstairs afterwards," Harvest returned. "They're trying to lure me out. As soon I fire up my main engines, they'll know where I am."

"Then how come they don't know where you are now?"

"I'm not in my ship form. As long as I don't activate my equipment, my weapons, or my main thrusters, I'm just another human to their sensors."

"Your main thrusters…what about your RCS?" Not-Inazuma asked. "Can you just carry your equipment without activating it?"

Nagato blinked at the question. "Technically, yes. Any kanmusu can move about without activating their rigging. We used that trick early in the war to ambush some Abyssal patrols, disguising battleships as destroyers and the like. It worked rather well before they caught on to it. Why do you ask? What do you have in mind?"

Instead of answering the battleship, it turned to the UNSC kanmusu. "Harvest, you haven't fired off your Shiva, have you?"

Harvest's brow furrowed. "No, I never had the chance." Her eyes suddenly widened. "You can't actually be thinking that, can you?"

Not-Inazuma smiled. "Good news, everyone! We can officially move 'nuclear murder-suicide' to Plan 'B'. I've got an idea…"


	20. Chapter 19: Kanmusu Space Program

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

"It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small."

-Neil Armstrong

* * *

The Shipmaster noted, with some interest, that the door to his quarters was closed. The automatic door to his quarters had been propped open ever since it ceased functioning after the battle with the humans. Could it be working again at last? _Or someone closed it just to toy with me_ , he thought glumly; childish to be sure, but he would not put it entirely beyond the irritable youngster to do so anyway. Stepping closer, however, the Shipmaster was relieved to see the door open with a _swoosh_. Nodding to himself, the Shipmaster entered the small meeting room of his quarters. "It seems the Huragok have made progress," he mused to no one in particular.

"Indeed they have," a voice responded. The Shipmaster turned to face the black-clad Sangheili, who sat in one of the chairs in the meeting room. "I must say, Brother, I am pleasantly surprised by the depths of your patience. You may make a worthy addition after all."

The Shipmaster inclined his head slightly. While it was true that all Sangheili called each other _Brother_ , he knew his black-clad brethren meant it more literally than most. And therefore, the Shipmaster indulged his fellow with thoughts he would not usually share. "There are times I worry I have become too patient. The human ship still eludes us, and a not insignificant part of me ponders if it is still here at all." His mandibles tightened in a frown. "Either they escaped when we first arrived, or they are hidden so well they cannot be found. Their shipmaster mocks me either way."

"They are still here," his companion said firmly. "Your sensors would have detected if they attempted to leave. But they have not. Ergo, they remain on this world."

"I wish I shared your confidence."

"I have fought the humans from the start of this war. This is what they _do_. They know they cannot face us in honorable battle, so they hide. They lure you into a false sense of security, before striking from the sides, where you do not look. You must be patient, and remain wary. The moment you let your guard down they will strike."

"Easy for you to say; you are not in charge of this ship! You need not answer for the hundreds of brothers already lost, nor need you reign in those who remain!" His brother simply returned a dispassionate gaze. The Shipmaster frowned again. "With each cycle that passes my crew grows more impatient, and I with them! I wish nothing more than to burn this world to ash, and cleanse the heretical filth that walks the planet below! And yet instead I sit on my hands, waiting for an enemy that may not even be present anymore!"

"And I tell you that it _is_ still here!" his brother returned, leaping out of his seat.

"Then how do I flush it out?!" The Special-ops Sangheili frowned. "How do I flush it out," the Shipmaster continued, "without ground troops to send in, without another ship to offer as bait, without any target that they may wish to defend?" The Shipmaster gestured outside. "We thought destroying their satellites would bring it out. It did not. We though destroying their guns would bring them out. It did not. Anything we could find that looked threatening we threatened, yet _nothing_ has brought this ship out! What next?"

The two Sangheili separated, both deep in thought. Finally, the Shipmaster asked. "In your great experience, Brother, what is the one thing that the humans fought hardest for?"

The black-armored one blinked. In truth, there were lots of things the humans fought hard for; it was one of the reasons the war had dragged on for so long. Yet to pick one thing they fought hardest to defend… "Their young."

The Shipmaster's mandibles tightened. "Then that is what I threaten next," he replied, doing his best to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth.

* * *

"I still can't believe I agreed to do this," Nagato grumbled.

"Given your history, I'm surprised you did too," Repensum's voice floated out of Harvest's rig. "But you sure seemed eager when you leapt out of your chair like that. Far be it for me to turn down such a willing volunteer."

"I've been nuked; it's not what you might call a pleasant experience. I just don't want the rest of the world to have to go through what I did."

"Whatever you tell yourself at night, lady," Repensum replied.

Harvest glanced up at Nagato before giving her rig a Look. "You know, for all the hate you've expressed for Parangosky, you really do act like how I imagine she would."

"Yeah, yeah. Hard men making hard decisions while hard, no moral compass whatsoever, blah blah blah. Heard it all before."

"And this is the group we're sending off to save humanity," Enterprise muttered from off to the side. "God help us all."

"Eh, they're a typical ragtag bunch of misfits," her older sister retorted. "Usually that means they'll do just fine."

"This isn't one of your movies, York."

"Says you."

The sound of Harvest clearing her throat silenced the conversations. "Right. Shall we set this crazy plan into motion?"

The group stepped out onto the tarmac of Tanegashima Space Center, one of the main launch facilities for Japan's space program. The island had been abandoned when the Abyssals first attacked, but the past week had seen the island hastily yet quietly repopulated.

"Bit convenient that a rocket just happened to be sitting around, ready to be used, don't you think?" Yorktown asked.

"From what they told me, the rocket was to be used for another satellite launch," Nagato replied. "It was scheduled to take place about a month after the Abyssals attacked, but while the navies tried to stem the Abyssal advance the rocket was de-fueled and stowed away before the island was abandoned. And unlike Kure, the Abyssals never saw fit to attack this place."

Yorktown still looked unconvinced, but Repensum broke back into the conversation. "As satisfying as it would be to understand the how and why, don't we have more critical things to be doing with our time?"

Harvest took in a deep breath and let it out. "Right. So, Nagato and I ride this rocket into orbit, motor over to the Covenant ship with my RCS, get through the shield, plant the nuke, blow up the ship, and the day is saved. Anybody have anything else they'd like to add?"

"Preferably, you should probably try and get the ship out of orbit before setting off the nuke lest pieces of Covie ship rain down to Earth," Repensum put in.

Harvest cursed. From what the ONI ship said, the ship's bridge was rather forward of the slipspace drive room they'd be entering in. "We'll do what we can."

"In addition, as surviving is hopefully part of your plan, Saratoga has NASA putting a rocket together in the California desert to bring you back if you need it," Enterprise said.

Harvest nodded. Hopefully that wouldn't be needed, but always nice to have a back-up. "And you guys know the signals?"

The American carriers nodded. "Couldn't you have picked a more original victory line than 'Mission complete'?" Yorktown griped. "At least 'Winter Contingency' for 'mission failed we're all gonna die' has a little bit of imagination behind it."

"'Winter Contingency' is the code for Covenant forces attacking a UNSC world."

Yorktown threw up her hands. "Well, never mind, then."

Enterprise rolled her eyes. "Well, best of luck to you both. We're all counting on you."

Harvest looked up at the rocket and sighed. "Thanks. We're going to need it."

* * *

Nagato winced as she made her way into the rocket's makeshift crew cabin. At just under 180 centimeters, she was tall for a Japanese woman. Having to wear a bulky space suit didn't help matters at all. She wouldn't need it once she manifested her rigging—Harvest's jaunt with Shimakaze had proved that, at least—but with her rigging would show up on the enemy's sensors as a full-sized ship. They needed to be stealthy, and that meant that until they could enter the enemy ship Nagato needed to wear the space suit.

Nagato glanced at the figure next to her jealously. Harvest had no need for a cumbersome space suit, but then again, she was also a _space_ ship, so maybe it came with the territory. Nagato knew that people far smarter than her had run themselves ragged trying to decipher what many spitefully called "Magical Sparkly Shipgirl Bullshit", and Harvest herself had added several more such instances to an already long list.

The frigate buckled herself in and sighed. "Ready?" Harvest asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," Nagato responded. "I'll be honest, this is something I never expected to see myself doing." As Harvest nodded, Nagato suddenly thought of something. "Where is the enemy ship, anyway? I hope it's not right above us."

Harvest shook her head. "Last I heard, it was fucking off on the other side of the Pacific. As far as my passive sensors can tell, it's still there—" The frigate suddenly stopped talking, going very, very pale. She clenched her jaw, her fists shaking.

"Harvest?"

"They've started glassing," the frigate ground out. "The American west coast. Damn them."

Horror spread through the Japanese battleship's body as the news sunk in. Images of glassed planets flashed through her mind. "We're too late," she mumbled morosely.

"Our job is to protect the innocent," Harvest replied, her voice harder than Nagato had ever heard it, "But when we fail, our job is to avenge those that we couldn't protect." Her hands tightened as the rocket began its countdown. "Time we had our revenge." Nagato nodded.

* * *

"That was easy."

The red-armored Sangheili agreed with his trainee's bemused surprise. He keyed his communicator. "Hierarch, the humans sent up a small vessel after you descended. We've destroyed it easily. It's obviously not the human warship."

"I thought I ordered you to report any sightings and _not_ to engage," his Shipmaster growled back.

The pilot rolled his eyes. Several lunar cycles of waiting had left the entire crew on edge; was the shipmaster really going to chew them out for having a little fun? "You ordered us not to engage the human warship, and that was no warship. My trainee and I destroyed it effortlessly with the blasters on our fighter craft."

"I am aware enough of the letter of my orders, pilot. I expected you to be aware of the spirit of them as well," the shipmaster replied angrily. The pilot sighed; apparently the shipmaster actually _was_ cranky enough to chew them out for having a little fun. "Return to the ship at once!"

The pilot sighed and switched channels. "The Hierarch isn't happy with us," he told his trainee. "Let's go get yelled at." He pointed his Banshee back towards the battlecruiser, his trainee taking one last circle through the wreckage before following.

Had the trainee been flying a Banshee, which he would have had to fly visually, he might have noticed that some of the wreckage wasn't there anymore. But the Seraph, being a craft flown largely by instrument and sensors, didn't pick up on the missing pieces.

And so the trainee failed to notice that two pieces of wreckage were clinging to his tail.

* * *

 _Well, that could have gone better_ , Harvest thought sardonically. Entertaining thoughts of revenge, she'd almost been too late picking up the two fighters, and she and Nagato had to scramble to abandon their spacecraft before plasma stitched it from end to end.

On the other hand, the UNSC frigate acknowledged that it could have gone worse, too. She or Nagato could have been killed for all she knew, and in any case they had an easy ride to the battlecruiser and past its shields.

Harvest glanced down at the Earth and grimaced at the glowing red lines over Southern California. Forcing herself to refocus on her objective, she studied the CCS-class as her ride came ever closer. Looking over the cruiser, the large hole her MAC had punched through the exact center of the ship made it easy to tell it was the same one she had fought after Skopje. As she came closer, she could also see the craters and scorching from Archers that got past the point-defenses after the shield went down. As the Seraph slowed to pass through the shields, Harvest could even see the scuff marks from autocannon impacts, probably from UNSC _Nicholas_. A not-quite-successful dodge of the energy projector left her MAC melted, so the fellow Stalwart turned broadside and raked the cruiser with her autocannons, a last futile gesture of defiance before an entire salvo of plasma torpedoes impacted along her length. At the same time though, _Nicholas_ ' effort had distracted the Covies long enough for _Harvest_ to get above and charge her MAC, so perhaps the gesture wasn't so futile after all.

Harvest let go of her Seraph taxi, using her RCS to burn away from the hanger and towards the hole from the battle so long ago. Extra bracing ran across the length of the hole, Harvest noted a shimmering field across the interior, similar to that which ran along the outside of the ship's hangers. If Repensum was to be believed, it was a permeable plasma layer that kept atmosphere from leaking out, but Harvest still held her breath as she climbed towards it, not daring to release it until she was inside. "Alright, you can take off your space suit now."

Nagato reached up and hoisted off her helmet. "That's the most claustrophobic thing I've ever been in," the battleship grumbled. Harvest smiled.

The frigate looked up and around. "Well, we're here. Let's get to—" She suddenly shouted in pain as green balls impacted her arm. The two ships dashed behind the nearest cover, as green and pink lights chased after them. Only now did Harvest's hearing adjust enough for her to pick up the yips and rasps of Grunts and Jackals.

To Harvest's surprise, the level-headed Japanese battleship snarled in anger. "All main cannons, full salvo!" Her spacesuit ripped apart as her equipment shifted into position, her batteries orientating themselves towards the Covenant. " _Fire_!"

Explosions filled the corridor down which the enemy approached, and Covenant bodies and pieces thereof flew everywhere. The remaining Grunts and Jackals turned and ran. A loud roar, however, tipped Harvest off that not everyone was so intimidated.

A blue-armored Elite charged out of the smoke straight towards Harvest, plasma sword alight in its hand. The frigate jumped out of the way of the swing, before grasping the Elite's arm and snapping it at the elbow. As the alien roared in pain and dropped his sword, Harvest picked the Elite up and chucked him towards the hole through which the ship girls came. "Wort! Wort! Wort!" the beast cried, as it flew out into outer space.

It took a couple moments for Harvest's adrenaline to slow long enough for her to realize a couple things: first, even if it was an infantry weapon, plasma _really hurt_. But far more importantly, both Nagato and her had manifested their rigging; even if the firefight itself didn't do it, their cover was certainly blown now.

Harvest turned to the battleship, who seemed to stare in some horror at the carnage her guns had wrought. "Well, we've got a lot less time now." Nagato shook herself out of her stupor and nodded. "Let's get to work."


	21. Chapter 20: Send Me Out With a Bang

**Redshirt047** : The in-story reasoning for glassing Southern California is that they're trying to coax out Harvest, who they last saw by Asia. So to draw her out, they're glassing the other side of the planet to force Harvest to come to them so they can ambush her. The OOC reason is that most of my reader stats are from the U.S., so southern California hits "closer to home" than Asia would.

 **ARcan** : Thanks! Usually by the time Harvest arrives, Winter Contingency has already been declared a while ago, so so far as she knows it just means "Covies are here oh noes".

 **perfectshade** : Glad someone picked up on Yorktown lampshading everything! Thanks for the reviews!

 **TazalTerminals** , **edboy4926** , **et. al.** : Thanks for the support and the likes! Definitely having a lot of fun writing this story, glad you guys are having fun reading it!

We're getting closer and closer to the end, guys. Here's the penultimate chapter. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

To: COMFLT Jericho; FLEETCOM Reach

Subject: PILLAR OF AUTUMN Recorded Timeline Fleet Encounter 15.8.2547

Description: Per FLEETCOM orders evacuation of Skopje yard completed and convoy performed randomized jump per Article One, UNSC General Order 098831A-1. Approx five minutes after jump completed sensors on all ships registered incoming slipspace signatures. Localized slipspace ruptures detected at 12:41 hours shipboard.

Order of Battle:

-Hostile: One cruiser (CCS-class), Two destroyers (CPV-class).

-Friendly: Six transport ships (UNSC _Mercy_ CFV-63, UNSC _Bright Dawn_ CFV-66, UNSC _New Sun_ CFV-68, UNSC _Harmony_ CFV-70, UNSC _Another Show_ CFV-71, UNSC _Lovely Day_ CFV-73), One cruiser (UNSC _Pillar of Autumn_ C-709), Three heavy frigates (UNSC _Balaclava_ FFG-532, UNSC _Guinevere_ FFG-533, UNSC _You Want More_ FFG-557), Four light frigates (UNSC _Walker_ FFG-339, UNSC _Ranger_ FFG-341, UNSC _Nicholas_ FFG-405, UNSC _Harvest_ FFG-413).

Timeline: (All times per PILLAR OF AUTUMN shipboard.)

-12:41: Slipspace ruptures detected and observed by all ships. Transports ordered to move to safe distance away from ruptures. PILLAR OF AUTUMN and all heavy frigates ordered to break defensive formation and prepare to engage. General Quarters and Fire Condition Zulu sounded on all ships.

-12:42: Three Covenant ships arrive in system. Hostiles are identified as one CCS-class cruiser flanked by two CPV-class destroyers in standard chevron formation. [Destroyers referred to as "Port-side" and "Starboard-side" based on their orientation relative to the cruiser.] GUINEVERE AI requests immediate permission to engage without coordinating with fleet, which is still out of position. Permission granted by PILLAR OF AUTUMN AI with caveat that GUINEVERE submit to fleet orders once PILLAR OF AUTUMN and other frigates are in position.

-12:43: GUINEVERE MAC shot strikes unshielded Port-side CPV midships and kills it.

-12:44: GUINEVERE struck below the bridge by energy projector from Starboard-side CPV [Hereafter referred to as "CPV"] and explodes with all hands. HARVEST contacts PILLAR OF AUTUMN and requests permission for light frigates to detach from convoy and enter battle. Permission is granted by RADM Sprague. Light FFGs break formation and approach the battle.

-12:45: CCS and CPV launch plasma torpedoes. Plasma torpedoes from CPV impact BALACLAVA, which is lost to primary and secondary detonations.

-12:46: RADM Sprague orders attacks to be concentrated on CPV. PILLAR OF AUTUMN and YOU WANT MORE engage CPV with artillery, supported by Archers from several ships. Plasma torpedoes from CCS impact PILLAR OF AUTUMN, causing exterior damage.

-12:47: Light FFGs enter artillery range and engage. Energy projector from CPV dodged by YOU WANT MORE. Energy projector from CCS scores glancing hit on PILLAR OF AUTUMN.

-12:48: Concentrated artillery and missile fire from PILLAR OF AUTUMN and YOU WANT MORE penetrate CPV shields. CPV struck simultaneously by MAC shots fore and aft and is destroyed. Fire is immediately ordered redirected against CCS.

-12:49: CCS launches plasma torpedoes from all batteries: Starboard-side batteries target YOU WANT MORE while port-side batteries target PILLAR OF AUTUMN. Artillery and missile fire from light FFGs absorbed by shield. FFGs close with CCS on their own initiative. YOU WANT MORE fires all remaining missiles and low-power artillery shot before succumbing to plasma torpedoes.

-12:50: Missile and artillery fire from PILLAR OF AUTUMN and four FFGs absorbed by CCS shields. CCS energy projector strikes PILLAR OF AUTUMN dead center causing critical damage and severing power to PILLAR OF AUTUMN's MAC. Point-defense lasers from CCS target exposed internal sections of PILLAR OF AUTUMN and cause extensive internal damage. PILLAR OF AUTUMN moves to disengage while FFGs continue to approach to very close range.

-12:51: Transport ships signal their slipspace drives have recharged and are ordered to escape on their own. PILLAR OF AUTUMN fires off remaining Archers before disengaging. Only after PILLAR OF AUTUMN has successfully disengaged does the CCS seem to notice light FFGs, which have by this time approached to incredibly close range with CCS, HARVEST on its starboard side, NICHOLAS in front, and WALKER and RANGER on its port. Concentrated fire succeeds in penetrating CCS shields. HARVEST fires its remaining Archers at the CCS' starboard plasma torpedo ports, rendering them inoperable.

-12:52: All transport ships fire their slipspace drives and escape successfully, while PILLAR OF AUTUMN limps at best speed away from the fight to transition to slipspace herself. [Note: All remaining events were observed by PILLAR OF AUTUMN and logged by her AI, though for all purposes PILLAR OF AUTUMN has disengaged from the battle and is moving out of range of enemy fire to activate her slipspace drives.] CCS fires plasma torpedoes out of functioning ports, which impact WALKER and RANGER and destroy both. HARVEST and NICHOLAS maintain a prow-on orientation against the cruiser, HARVEST to starboard and slightly above the CCS, NICHOLAS below and slightly to port.

-12:53: PILLAR OF AUTUMN judges distance safe enough and charges up her slipspace drive. CCS fires its energy projector, which clips the bow of NICHOLAS and renders her MAC inoperable. HARVEST begins to orbit around the CCS's starboard side, positioning itself above the cruiser while maintaining a prow-on orientation.

-12:54: NICHOLAS turns broadside, raking the CCS's hull with her autocannons to no effect, while HARVEST has slid into position directly above the CCS. PILLAR OF AUTUMN fires its slipspace drive, witnessing the CCS launch plasma torpedoes at NICHOLAS before jumping away.

Results:

All transport ships have arrived at Reach safely. Covenant forces have suffered the loss of two CPV-class destroyers, while one CCS-class battlecruiser is certainly damaged, possibly severely.

The cost to Friendly forces is as follows:

-One Halcyon-class light cruiser ( _Pillar of Autumn_ ): HEAVILY DAMAGED.

-Three Paris-class heavy frigates ( _Guinevere_ , _Balaclava_ , _You Want More_ ): DESTROYED.

-Two Charon-class light frigates ( _Walker_ , _Ranger_ ): DESTROYED.

-One Stalwart-class light frigate ( _Nicholas_ ): MISSING, PRESUMED LOST.

-One Stalwart-class light frigate ( _Harvest_ ): MISSING.

* * *

"Human warship detected!"

The cry tore the Shipmaster out of disciplining his reckless pilots. He'd done what he swore he wouldn't do: order his ship into low orbit to glass the human planet, and now the human warship was coming to make him pay for it. "Helm! Get us into high orbit! Immediately!"

"Aye, Hierarch!" the Unggoy manning the helm cried back, his little arms straining against the ship's steering to pull the ship up sharply.

The Shipmaster paid no attention to the Unggoy's efforts. Immediately he shouted back to the sensor operator, "Approach vector! What is it?!" If the humans were above and coming down on him, he could be in real trouble.

The sensor operator seemed to fumble with his console. "That doesn't make any sense!" he mumbled in frustration. "What is it _doing_?"

"Sensors!" the Shipmaster roared, adrenaline and panic coursing through his body. "Where is it?! Tell me _now_!"

"I don't know!" the sensor operator cried back. "This doesn't make any sense! According to all our sensors, the human warship is _inside_ our ship!" The white-armored Sangheili fiddled with his console further. "No matter what I try it won't correct itself!"

The Shipmaster flexed his mandibles in frustration and confusion. What the _hell_ were the humans pulling now? A memory suddenly shot back into his mind: his Special-ops brother had said the humans sometimes tried to use boarding parties… He cursed. "Where in the ship does it say?"

The sensor operator blinked at the Shipmaster taking the silly readings seriously, but knew better than to doubt his superior. "The slipspace drive room. It says the ship is there, with another unidentified large object as well!"

The slipspace drive room…where the humans had blasted a hole through his ship so long ago. A hole that was still open. A hole that was supposedly guarded by that ill-tempered brat…who despite himself had not piped up to complain in a long time. The Shipmaster cursed again. "It's a boarding! All of you, ready your weapons! The humans are trying to sabotage the ship!"

The two Sangheili manning the sensor and weapon stations blinked in surprise, but quickly made themselves ready. The Unggoy manning the helm squeaked in surprise. "What about the ship?" it asked.

"Leave it! We've got to stop the humans before they damage anything vital. The conduits connecting the bridge to the engines run near there; if the humans destroy that, we'll lose control over our maneuvering and thrust. I'd rather drift again while the Huragok repair it than slam into the planet ourselves!" The Shipmaster grabbed a plasma rifle and clamped his sword to his hip.

"All soldiers, with me!" The Shipmaster charged out of the bridge, the makeshift crew with equally makeshift weapons following him, leaving the bridge deserted. Meanwhile, the battlecruiser continued to drift farther and farther out of orbit.

* * *

Harvest cursed to herself as she fiddled with her damn SHIVA. All she wanted to do was set off really a big nuke; why would that be frowned upon?! What would make someone think that should be a difficult thing to do?

Tactical warheads like SHIVAs were tightly controlled; only a theater commander or commander of equivalent rank could authorize their use, and the warheads would refuse to arm unless supplied with an authorization code from an Admiral of sufficient rank to authorize their use. Unfortunately, at the moment Harvest was bereft of such an admiral to transmit such authorization, thus forcing the frigate to furiously wrack her brain trying to remember one.

"C'mon goddamnit," Harvest muttered. "They authorized these things after every fucking battle." Yet at the same time, Harvest knew all too well that such orders had been intended for those ships fighting in the fleet battles, not those supporting the ground troops. And back then, Harvest couldn't be bothered to pay too much attention to things that didn't concern her.

Just to make Harvest's job even more difficult, her train of thought kept getting derailed when the guns of the nearby battleship fired every few seconds. The UNSC frigate glanced up as Nagato's battery roared again. "How the hell are you not tearing up the ship with those guns of yours?"

"Type Three shells," Nagato responded. "Beehive rounds; they're like a giant shotgun."

"But even those should be shredding the ship, shouldn't they?"

"How would _I_ know what effect they'd have?" Nagato returned hotly, or at least as hot as Harvest had ever heard the Japanese battleship. "You may not have noticed, but I'm not all that familiar with this craft."

Harvest grunted, conceding the point. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine. These tiny ones are cowards; make a loud noise in their direction and they'll run away. The avians with the shields are annoying, but I'm wearing them down with small caliber fire." She paused to let her batteries fire again. "The tall and loud ones are annoying as well. They're good at dodging; I've only gotten one so far. Just keeping them suppressed for now." Nagato's arm suddenly flew in front of her face, and she grunted in pain as green balls of plasma hit it. Her secondaries made clear her displeasure, and the green balls stopped coming. "How much longer until your weapon is ready?"

Harvest furrowed her brow. "Not much longer." _I hope_. She turned back to the task at hand. _Alright, you bastard, let's try again. Whitcomb, Seven…Bravo…Niner…Delta?_ To her surprise—and, in equal measure, relief—the light on the Shiva suddenly changed to green. Harvest gave a mental cheer. "Got it!" she called out in triumph.

And then a plasma sword was shoved through her stomach.

* * *

As a kanmusu of Japan, not to mention the secretary ship of Yokosuka, Nagato prided herself on her ability to keep her cool in battle. The battleship knew all too well how emotions left unchecked could bring ruin to any force, and so Nagato forced herself to remain coldly logical, detached from the rush of battle. In many ways, her hamster was what grounded the battleship in sanity, allowing her some brief measure of relief, which in turn allowed her to remain calm no matter what happened on the field.

That said, however, what she was going through on this alien ship was stretching her calm past the breaking point. This was supposed to be a quick mission: get in, plant the bomb, and get out. If all went well, the Covenant would be none the wiser until their ship exploded.

All did not, of course, go well. Their cover was blown almost immediately, and then Harvest had to summon her ship self to solve _that_ immediate problem, which in turn brought the attention of everyone _else_ down on their heads.

Of course, Harvest had to summon her ship self to access her weapon, so their cover would have been blown anyway, but it was the thought that counted.

Now Nagato found herself pinned down by aliens whose grunts (both lower case and capitalized, if Harvest was to be believed) carried weapons that could harm a kanmusu, while Harvest fiddled with her apparently stubborn warhead. All in all, for one of the very few times since Nagato had returned as a kanmusu, the situation was starting to get to her.

 _'_ _Not much longer' she says_ , the battleship grumbled mentally. _That's what she said before, too! How hard could it be to arm that thing? It's her own weapon, after all!_ Of course, the fact that the weapon in question was a nuclear one was not lost on Nagato. Even after all these years she still sometimes had nightmares of that blinding light, and with good reason had she sworn to never have anything to do with them. And now she was helping to deliver one in anger. Yet another thought that served to dampen her mood.

"Got it!" Harvest cried in triumph. Nagato's spirit soared; _finally_ they could get off this horrible ship! And then Harvest suddenly gasped. Nagato briefly glanced her way, only for her heart to freeze as her head whirled around in a double-take.

Harvest stared at the sword—Nagato remembered one held by the blue-colored tall and loud alien when they first arrived—that had seemingly just appeared in the frigate's midsection. Harvest shakily raised her arm and moved it towards the sword, only to stop when _something_ seemed to intercept it. Something that shimmered…

Nagato's eyes widened in horror as that something turned into an alien arm. Harvest gasped again as that arm jerked, before screaming in agony as the arm slowly raised higher and higher, the black-colored tall alien the arm was attached to slowly becoming visible.

The black-clad alien narrowed its eyes, its mandibles tightening as it examined the small figure impaled on its sword. " _Pathetic_." Nagato blinked, surprised that the alien seemed to speak English, even if in a deep, guttural growl. " _This_ is who the humans decide to after us. A youngling who plays as a warship." The alien suddenly deactivated its sword, letting Harvest crumple to the ground. "I do not know how you manage to masquerade as something that would pose a genuine threat, little girl, but your play-acting has come to its inevitable end. No amount of dishonorable trickery will stop our righteous crusade."

Leaving Harvest to writhe in pain, the alien stalked its way towards Nagato in just a few rapid strides. Nagato panicked and threw a wild punch at the alien's face, but it just side-stepped the blow, before back-handing the battleship clear across the room.

Nagato saw stars for a few brief moments, and even then felt dizzy and disorientated. " _You_ ," a low growl from much too close made the battleship freeze in terror, "are as heavy as a Demon. But no matter." Nagato opened her eyes and froze upon realizing the black-clad alien stood directly above her. He reignited his sword, and the Japanese battleship felt ice flow down her spine. "None shall stand before the Great Journey." He reached his arm back.

"Hey! Hinge-head! You wanna go on the Great Journey?!" a small, pained voice shouted out in defiance. The alien growled and turned around. "Have a pleasant flight, motherfucker!" Harvest snarled, and fired her MAC.

Nagato had seen—and felt—the power of Harvest's main weapon at close range, but it had never seemed as powerful as it did in that moment. There was a bright flash of blue as the round impacted and shattered the alien's shields, before its chest simply ceased to exist as the round continued on and blasted out the hull wall behind Nagato.

And then the vacuum sucked the Japanese battleship into space.

"NO!" she cried; though she could hear no sound made by her lips she knew the tightbeam communicator would transmit her words anyway. "Harvest!"

"All call signs, UNSC Harvest." The tiny frigate's labored, pained voice sounded in her ear. "Mission complete."

"Harvest!" Nagato shouted again. "HARVEST!" For a few moments the battleship waved her arms and legs as though attempting to swim, only stopping when she realized the futility as the alien ship drifted further and further away.

And then, just like all those years before, Nagato saw the Light.

That Light, blinding beyond belief, seemingly powerful enough to penetrate past all her armor into her very soul. Nagato braced herself for the horrible roar, the same cry of anger and anguish that drowned out the screams of goats and pigs and poultry so long ago. But it never came. Here the Light did its work in absolute silence. Nagato didn't know if that made it better or worse.

At long last, the Light slowly, almost reluctantly, faded away. Nagato's eyes adjusted enough to pick out the pieces of the once proud alien ship, drifting off into the void. After a brief moment of panic, she was relieved to see that she was not drifting off as well; she seemed to hang around Earth, even if only just.

"Nagato?" a voice sounded in her ear. "Harvest? This is Hood. If you can hear me, please respond."

"This is Nagato." It was bizarre, the battleship decided, that one could know that they were speaking yet be unable to hear themselves do so. If nothing else it forced Nagato to think much harder on her words, if only to make sure she said them as she wished to. "I am here. I require assistance, however."

"It may be a bit, but it's coming," the British battlecruiser replied. "What about Harvest?"

"She… She didn't…" Nagato tightened her fists. Her difficulty communicating was due to the silence, she told herself. Not because she didn't know what to say. She _always_ knew what she had to say. Even if she couldn't quite say it.

"Understood," Hood replied. Nothing more was said. Nothing more needed to be said. Nothing more could be said.

With little else she could do, Nagato looked at the stars around her, and lost herself in her thoughts.


	22. Omake Time Two!

Currently working on the final chapter, but even if I finish today I know better than to post anything serious on April 1st. Instead, have a non-canon omake by hanatoro on the Spacebattles thread, "You should see the other guy."

P.S.: Random historical fact of the day: Seventy-one years ago, the largest amphibious landing in history (even larger than the Neptune-Overlord landings in Normandy in June, 1944) kicked off when the U.S. Tenth Army landed on Okinawa to mixed omens. Why mixed omens? It was both Easter Sunday and April Fools' Day!

Enjoy the omake, and happy April Fools' Day!

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

You should see the other guy.

It was, Perth decided, a very good thing that she had skipped lunch to sortie against this contact. Even on an empty stomach it was still a challenge to avoid her body finding a way to bring her last three meals back up.

The girl before her was a horror show, plain and simple. Her face was covered in blood from the hole where left eye used to be, her neck had burn marks on what _was_ left, something had taken a three inch chunk out it.  
Her left arm ended abruptly at the elbow, the ragged stump torn and bloody and her right leg wasn't in much better condition.  
The girl was acting extremely alive for some whose ribs where literally showing, Perth could actually see that one of her lungs had collapsed and that her spleen had numerous bullet holes.  
It seemed that the only part if her that was even relatively intact was her lower right arm where a strange boxy looking rifle was cradled against her side.  
Perth had never really put much stock in the tales if zombies and other kinds of undead, even despite her own mystical origin the thought of a corpse getting up and walking around was simply ridiculous. However when faced with this shipgirl who should be dead, _was_ dead if there was logic in the connection between the girl and damage she had taken, as she slowly shifted to better face Perth, that belief was crumbling fast.

In light of this horrifying revelation the first words from Perth's mouth were so amazingly dumb Perth smacked her face into her hand as soon as she parsed what she had said.  
"Ma'am, are you alright?"  
Defiantly not one of her best moments, Perth so expected to shouted at for asking such a stupid question with such an obvious answer that when she received a reply she almost couldn't believe it.  
"Oh, I'm fine. Thanks for asking."  
That was it, no shouting, no scathing remark, not even a trace of sarcasm made it into the injured girl's tone. She completely believed that there was nothing wrong with her current state of existence.  
This utter insanity had finally broken what little restraint Perth had left after it had been worn down by a crushing operational tempo and an empty stomach still looking for something to send upwards.  
"You're fine, just fine. How in the world can you be, just fine? By all rights you should be dead!"  
The target of Perth's rant just shrugged her shoulders.  
"Eh, I've had worse."  
"Worse?!" Perth's eyes bugged out of her skull. "How could you have had worse? Your arm's come off!"  
"No it hasn't"  
"Yes, it has."  
Perth felt her gorge rise as the girl waved her stump around a little.  
"It's just a scratch."  
"A srat– Then what do you call this?" Perth gesticulated wildly at the girls exposed ribcage.  
"That's just a flesh wound."  
"A flesh wound? It's just a—" Perth cut herself off. Breath in, breath out. Okay Perth, just be calm, let's start from the top.  
"Sorry, how's about we start again, properly this time. I'm HMAS Perth, D79, Leander-class light cruiser."  
"UNSC You Should See, C-331, Halycon-class light cruiser. I'd shake your hand but mine's a bit full and I'm short a spare."  
Once again Perth could feel the bile at the back of her throat as You Should See flapped the stump of her left arm in demonstration.  
"You don't see many of us light cruiser running around anymore so us old girls have got to stick together."  
"Riiight." Perth drew the word out as her mind latched onto the only thing she could make sense of without try to throw up. "You Should See?"  
"Yeah, You Should See the other guy!"


	23. Chapter 21: For Earth and Her Colonies

**Guest** , **Thorthemighty321** : As was said on Spacebattles regarding the Halcyon class: "Hull breaches on all decks, all systems nominal."

 **The One and Only MUDKIP** : Aww, thanks! That really means a lot that you consider my story that good! If I do ever write more, I'll be sure to post it here.

 **Number III** : Was intended more as a nod to Halo 3 than Reach, but yeah I see your point.

 **redcollector** , **TazalTerminals** , **edboy4926** , **BrokenLifeCycle** , **perfectshade** , **ThePizziaMan** , **War historian** : Thanks for all the responses! Glad to know I've succeeded in making Harvest a character you all care about. Let's get on with the show, shall we?

 **A/N** : Here's the final chapter, everyone. It's been quite the ride! Thanks to everyone who followed and favorited this story, those who left comments and reviews, and those who sent me PMs telling me to keep it up! Hope everyone has had as much fun reading it as I have writing it. Let's finish this fight!

Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

[OPEN FILE]

[BEGIN SESSION]

UEG SELECT COMMITTEE ON THE MISSING 25.1.2558

-Docket no. 12541681: UNSC _Harvest_ FFG-413; LCDR J. Levine commanding (No living family). Ship classified MISSING 15.8.2547 with 215 officers and crew.

-Mission Statement: The purpose of this Committee is to determine the fate of ships and men labeled MISSING by the UNSC during the Human-Covenant War, utilizing records and reports made available to the Committee by all parties in the conflict.

-Enter Document One: Recorded Timeline, PILLAR OF AUTUMN.

[SKIP Y/N?] [Y]

-Enter Document Twelve, Selected Report, 'Thel Vadamee, _Fleet of Particular Justice_. [Note: Several sections of the report have been judged irrelevant to the inquiry and have been removed for length.]

"Shipmaster Ugakee reported several human ships jumping away on an identical vector, and has requested permission to pursue, stating they may lead to a human world. Given the humans' tendency to feint in the hopes of drawing forces away I, of course, refused said permission, and ordered Ugakee to remain in his position on the right flank. […] "I noticed that several ships were not in the position I had ordered, and upon inquiry was informed that Ugakee had co-opted two destroyers and pursued the human ships against orders. Thus I was forced to retard my performance against the human fleet in order to detach two cruisers from the reserve to bring Ugakee into line.

"As I feared, the cruisers reported they had found debris from a battle, including that of the two destroyers as well as the remains of six human ships of corvette-size [Note: Covenant After-Action reports often classify light and heavy frigates as "corvette-size", despite the SDV Heavy Corvette being almost twice as long as a Paris-class frigate.], alongside the signature of an uncontrolled slipspace event. Ugakee's rashness cost the Covenant two destroyers and one cruiser, not to mention delaying the advance of the Fleet of Particular Justice by several hours."

-Enter Document Thirteen, [SKIP Y/N?] [Y]

-Conclusions: Though the Committee is unable to conclusively determine the exact fate of UNSC HARVEST, the Committee is able reach several conclusions as to the battle in deep space on 15.8.2547.

One: The actions of the Sangheili commander (Ugakee in Covenant reports, though no first name is recorded) were against his orders, and what was thought to be a Covenant ambush was in fact a deviation from the intent of Covenant commanders. Thus, the FLEETCOM order banning convoy departures—where several ships depart on a similar random vector—in fear of further 'ambushes' by the Covenant was likely unnecessary. Thus also unnecessary were the disappearances and delays generated by this order, as damaged or semi-disabled ships transitioned to slipspace without any means of mutual support, only to be lost and stranded in deep space by malfunctioning computers or other equipment, adding greatly to the casualties of the war and the burden on this Committee.

Two: The CCS-class battlecruiser _Mantle of Faith_ was destroyed, rather than heavily damaged as the UNSC believed.

Three: The request by LCDR Levine to RADM Sprague for the light frigates to break formation and follow into battle was decisive, both in providing additional weight of fire against Covenant ships as well as in screening the escape of UNSC _Pillar of Autumn_ into slipspace.

Four: Covenant records list UNSC losses at six frigates, rather than the seven known to be engaged in battle. The loss of five frigates is recorded in the timeline and AAR records from UNSC _Pillar of Autumn_ and RADM Sprague, respectively: _Balaclava_ , _Guinevere_ , _Ranger_ , _Walker_ , and _You Want More_. Given the Covenant record of six sets of debris, coupled with RADM Sprague's testimony that the last plasma torpedo salvo angled to the cruiser's port side rather than starboard, the Committee concludes that the sixth set of debris likely belongs to UNSC _Nicholas_ , whose status should be altered accordingly.

Five: Given the lack of debris from both UNSC _Harvest_ and the _Mantle of Faith_ , coupled with the evidence of an uncontrolled slipspace rupture recorded by the Covenant, the Committee concludes UNSC _Harvest_ either detonated her own slipspace drive in close enough proximity to destroy _Mantle of Faith_ as well, or UNSC _Harvest_ in some way caused the rupture of the slipspace drive of _Mantle of Faith_.

-Recommendations: The Committee ends with the following Recommendations:

One: The status of UNSC _Nicholas_ be changed from MISSING, PRESUMED LOST to DESTROYED, the cause of destruction listed as "Enemy Action."

Two: The status of UNSC _Harvest_ be changed from MISSING to DESTROYED, the cause of destruction listed as "Uncontrolled Slipspace Event."

Three: UNSC FLEETCOM approve the nomination by RADM Sprague for LCDR J.M.A. Levine to posthumously receive the Gold Star for Valor and Bravery, as well as the citation's possible upgrade to the Colonial Cross, for the reasons listed in said nomination.

Four: UNSC _Harvest_ be nominated for the Earth Defense Unit Citation, for the reasons following: "Through the highest bravery, and regard only for the lives they were charged to protect, UNSC _Harvest_ and her crew faced and overcame the highest odds, sacrificing themselves to protect their superiors as well as many thousands of innocents. Their actions reflect the highest honor on themselves and their ship, laying down their lives for the protection and defense of Earth and all her colonies."

[END SESSION]

[CLOSE FILE]

* * *

Though she had only sailed this route once before in her life, Tenryuu was surprised how familiar it felt. She, her sister, and her destroyers had departed Yokosuka and headed south, passing the Ryukyu Islands before turning eastward for an hour and a half sailing, or one hour if she pushed herself to flank.

It was the same route Tenryuu had taken when she first met UNSC Harvest.

In many ways, the eyepatched cruiser could hardly believe that fateful day had been just one year ago. On one hand it seemed so long ago, yet on the other Tenryuu was shocked by how _short_ a time it felt like.

Six weeks earlier Tenryuu and her destroyers had departed Yokosuka with a very different attitude. The Abyssals, long the scourge of the seas, were on their last ropes—ropes that Tenryuu and the others were setting out to cut. The months since Harvest had come into her own had seen progress on a speed and scale that would have been simply unimaginable without her. Whole swathes of the oceans were cleared in matters of weeks. Tenryuu had set out to help put the last nail in the coffin, the end of organized resistance. The end of the Abyssal War.

The cruiser _Tenryuu_ had sunk in 1942, victim of torpedoes from the American submarine _Albacore_. But even had her hull lived to see the end of World War Two, it would have seen no cause for celebration. Expended by conflicts on all fronts, isolated diplomatically from every other nation in the world once the Soviet Union declared war, reduced to piles of ashes and bones through bombing and blockade, Japan had ended the Second World War a broken nation. Even as Japan prostrated itself at last, begged for mercy from many who felt Japan's actions left it unworthy of such leniency, the rest of the world celebrated.

Since returning as a kanmusu, Tenryuu had seen the pictures in history books and documentaries. She saw with some amount of jealousy the parades, the celebrations, the outbursts of joy that swept the world when World War Two finally ended. The actions of Japan's kanmusu were in many ways an overdue apology for the war, seeking to balance at last Japan's karma, redeem the nation for the sins of its past. But Tenryuu—and, the cruiser privately suspected, many other kanmusu—also looked forward to the celebration when the war was finally over. A celebration alongside their neighbors, rather than at their expense; a celebration Japan never had.

V-E Day: Victory in Europe. V-J Day: Victory over Japan. Tenryuu looked forward to adding a third to that list; V-A Day: Victory over the Abyssals. V-A Day had come…but it ended up far less joyous than Tenryuu had dreamed. Rather than celebrating their victory the kanmusu were scrambling to react to the new threat, this time in the sky, which claimed yet more thousands of civilian lives before it was dispatched.

And dispatching it had cost the life of a kanmusu Tenryuu never expected to grow so close to.

"We're here," the cruiser said softly. There were no visual landmarks, but Tenryuu knew this patch of ocean just the same. Here was where she crossed swords with a Re-class battleship, knowing full well that doing so could easily mean her demise. A fate that had nearly claimed her, too, saved at the last moment by the strange kanmusu they had diverted to rescue.

Despite the low volume, the battleship behind Tenryuu heard her just fine. She nodded and turned to the rest of the fleet following behind. "We're here," Nagato said. The battleship had spent several days floating in space before a rocket could get out to her and pick her up. Since coming back she hadn't talked much, preferring to spend time to herself, but one thing she did come out to say was that she wanted to perform a memorial service for the tiny frigate. Since the end of the war, many kanmusu had been milling about aimlessly while countries and politicians wondered what to do next; once word got out, the response was massive.

Kanmusu from all over the world made the trip to Japan. All classes, all nationalities, all allegiances were present amongst them. As one large fleet they had made their way down, following Tenryuu as she retraced the steps through which UNSC Harvest was introduced to the world. Those who had worked with the frigate particularly made the effort to come: Prince of Wales and Warspite, Roma and Richelieu, Yorktown and Enterprise. Even Saratoga had made the pilgrimage over, though she was swathed with bandages and supported by her sister at all times. Technically the carrier should still be in hospital—she had been hurt badly when San Diego was glassed—but her determination to pay her respects saw the American through.

As baffling as it was that such a horrible event could be thought of with relief, in fact the glassing had not caused anywhere near as much damage as it could have. Many coastal cities were evacuated during the panicked early days of the Abyssal War, and even when civilians started to move back many cities around kanmusu ports had been taken over almost entirely by the military. The Covenant ship had only spent a few minutes above the city, before it glided away, then charged into the upper atmosphere when Harvest and Nagato made their way on board. Compared to the planets Harvest's second spirit had shown, Earth had gotten off unbelievable easy.

Unbelievably easy, though, was still nowhere near untouched. San Diego may not have had as much population as, say, Los Angeles directly north of it, but the glassing still left over a hundred thousand dead and many more injured in its wake. The American kanmusu corps had also been shaken by the fact that one of the dead was the pioneer of American naval aviation, USS Langley, who like Houshou had retired as a kanmusu and lived off base in the city. Her funeral had only taken place a few days earlier, after which the Americans made their way to Japan. Many American ships were still in San Diego, continuing to provide any help they could in dealing with the disaster.

"Thank you all for coming," Nagato's voice broke Tenryuu out of her musings. The battleship took a deep breath. "Five years. Five long, arduous, blood-soaked years. That's how long the Abyssals had assaulted humanity by the time Harvest joined us. She was a small ship, a light frigate, made to fight for humanity in a war five centuries to come. Yet one year ago today, she appeared here, on this Earth, on this ocean, in our war."

Tenryuu and Tatsuta pulled their destroyers close. "The Abyssals were no longer advancing, but a long road still lay ahead when she arrived," Nagato continued. "After five long years of fighting we were finally, tenuously, holding the line. But to push them back?" Nagato shook her head. "All of us knew we had hard fights ahead of us. How long would it have taken us? Another five years? Another ten? How many of us would have fallen, given our lives to deny the Abyssals one more innocent life, one more kilometer of ocean, one more base from which to strike? Instead we all stand here today, only one year later, on oceans free from the threat of attack."

Akizuki and Hibiki snuggled into Tenryuu's arms as the speech went on. "Harvest spoke of an oath when she agreed to fight for us, an oath I can remember even all this time later. She said she swore, 'to preserve, protect, and defend Earth and all her colonies.' We may not be her Earth, she told me, and there may not yet be colonies, but she still considered herself bound to preserve, protect, and defend us, whether against the Abyssals or against the enemies that followed her to us. Now we are left to ask ourselves, if we are worthy of her devotion."

A few murmurs broke out at that statement, but Nagato went on as Tenryuu became distantly aware of a speck in her vision. "We may not have been present on this Earth before the Abyssals arrived, but we all know what it looked like: a fragmented people, divided by questions of nationality, questions of religion, questions of power, questions of history. Yet throughout this war we have come together as a people, as a planet, united against a common threat. Now through Harvest's miraculous help, that threat has been neutralized, but this raises the question: are we to split back up again, and resume the old feuds? Or instead, are we to maintain this unity and push onward, becoming the power that Harvest knew and was: a humanity united, spreading across the stars?"

More murmurs spread, this time approving rather than questioning. Every kanmusu had experienced the harmony of humanity united against a common threat, and none of them looked forward to that community fracturing; or worse, the prospect of having to face off against one another, in politics or even in battle. Tenryuu agreed with her secretary ship, though as her speech continued more and more of the cruiser's attention shifted elsewhere. "What I ask—what I dream—will not be simple. No matter our experiences of the past six years, there remains much separating us. There is a lot of blood, old blood, bad blood, between many of our nations. I cannot ask you to abandon them, but instead we have to work to move them on. Many of us have influence, many of us have connections; I implore you, use them! Help us move to absolve our grudges, accept our past errs and our current apologies, move beyond the old feuds towards what we should be, what Harvest came from: nations, united, pushing on towards the stars, whatever dangers and threats they may hold."

Tenryuu's attention finally shifted fully away from the battleship's speech—no matter how much she agreed with it—and towards the speck in her vision which seemed to grow larger and larger. Tenryuu's eye narrowed. Nagato said the Covenant ship was destroyed; could she have been wrong? Or could this even be another ship that came through as well? But it seemed too blocky for that…

Tenryuu suddenly blinked as the speck increased in size very, very quickly. "Look at that!" she cried, remembering too late that she was cutting off the battleship Nagato.

Nagato and the others turned at Tenryuu's shout, just as whatever-it-was cast a shadow over them. It definitely wasn't another Covenant ship; that much was for certain. It looked small, though Tenryuu was aware enough to realize the only reason it seemed "small" was in comparison to the gigantic bulbous vessel she had seen over Saipan. But whereas the purple Covenant ship was made of graceful curves, this grey vessel was all sharp lines and angles.

It also looked like it had been through hell; its hull was covered in scorch marks, and several of what looked like antennae were snapped or twisted, as though the ship had taken a terrific tumble. Obvious and hasty patches covered what looked like two large holes in the center. It was only when the ship yawed slightly, giving Tenryuu a view of the split nose, that the cruiser was able to make out writing on the nose: "FFG-413" on the top, and on the bottom and rather smaller, "REPENSUM EST CANICULA."

A hanger door opened on the bottom of the craft, out of which dropped a figure which ignited rockets on its limbs and made its way over to the crowd. "Hey, everybody," Harvest said, a hand protectively nursing the bandages wrapped around her stomach. "Did you miss me?"

Any articulate response was lost, as the assembled kanmusu let loose a cheer loud enough to be heard around the world.


	24. Chapter 22: Epilogue

Glad to see so many responses to my small story! By popular demand, have an Epilogue.

First, review responses:

 **BrokenLifeCycle** , **War historian** : Glad to see such fervent responses!

 **Guest** : There's a bit of a fanon amongst some Kantai Collection stories that in times of high stress a Kanmusu can summon her original, steel hull. Having it appear felt to me like an appropriate end to the last chapter.

 **ThePizziaMan** , **edboy4926** , **redcollecter** , **TazalTerminals** , **OBSERVER01** : Thanks!

 **Danny79** : "Achievement Unlocked: Viking Funeral." "Achievement Unlocked: Wee Bit Toasty."

 **bri1967** : Sorry but nope. Harvest (the shipgirl) is the ship's spirit; its soul. _Harvest_ (the ship) is just steel; it doesn't come with crew.

 **Mkoll** , **The One and Only MUDKIP** : One frigate shipgirl, one frigate ship, one dumb AI, and one spirit prowler. That's quite the collection!

 **perfectshade** : Thanks! Your detailed reviews are always a joy to read. Glad you liked the fic, and hope you enjoy one last chapter!

 **2 lazytosignin** : So forceful! Well, now that you mention it, there _is_ something my mind is cooking up... But that would be telling. ;)

Glad to see so many people responding to my story, and hope you enjoy one last chapter!

As always, I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.

* * *

UNSC Harvest whistled to herself as she strolled through the center of Pyongyang. Exchanging waves with the couple ship girls manning the UN food bank, her eyes swept over the signs of past fighting that still marred the city.

It was rather ironic how, before the Abyssal War, some in Europe and America had worried over how China spread its wealth and influence across the seas, as the Abyssals proved the dangers cut both ways. Caught by the collapse in international shipping, the Chinese economy plummeted. They were lucky that, despite all the difficulties and even some rumblings early in the war, their country survived the crisis rather intact.

The same could not be said, however, for China's quasi-vassal to the north-east. North Korea depended entirely on trade with China for just about everything, yet the country had no spare income for the consumer goods that made up China's trade economy. With China's attention turned inward, North Korea was suddenly cut off from supplies, and neither South Korea nor Japan was particularly inclined to devote precious resources to fill the gap. Mass starvation followed by civil war ensued. Despite the disaster in progress, however, China valued the buffer between its border and the west too much to allow South Korea to step in. Anarchy reigned until shortly after V-A Day, when China acquiesced to the United Nations stepping in to govern the province.

The nations of the world had been caught off guard when every last ship-girl defected _en masse_ to the UN, but the week of shocked inaction gave the ship girls time to make themselves useful. Alongside the usual patrols of the sea lanes to protect against Abyssal remnants, ship girls found a number of applications for human-scaled warships. What was left of the Middle East became surprisingly calm with female warships patrolling the borders, and where once the only dependable job was as a martyr, now there was an endless amount of profit to be made in the culinary arts. There had been that one attempt at a rocket attack in the West Bank, though only a couple rockets were fired before a destroyer-sized shell landed directly on the launch tube. The swift response, coupled with the threat of warship-level antiaircraft fire should the helicopters even _think_ of entering the West Bank, succeeded in persuading the Israelis to call off the retaliatory strike.

High commands grumbled, but couldn't really do much else considering the experiences conventional navies had early in the Abyssal War trying to fight a supernatural enemy, not to mention the fact that the poster-girl of the UN ship girl contingent was a spaceship from five centuries in the future.

Despite a tense first couple of months, in the end the nations of the world took the decision remarkably well, though joy at the end of the Abyssal War probably tempered many complaints. Economies were booming thanks to the restoration of international trade and shift back to consumer goods over wartime material. Another factor that definitely helped was the fact that, as the ship girls directly assigned to the United Nations headquarters made clear, they were subject to the UN, _not_ controlling it. Saratoga's speech for the first post-Abyssal War reconvening of the UN made headlines around the world. Drawing a comparison to George Washington's refusal to become king of the new United States after the American Revolution, Saratoga said, "We ship girls are the defenders of humanity, but we are not nor will we ever be its rulers. We did not overthrow the greatest threat humanity has yet seen only to become that threat ourselves." Harvest smiled; it was as close an oath to defend Earth and her colonies as was yet applicable to this past planet. The United Nations was far from perfect, but of all the complaints arrayed against it, no one could ever accuse it anymore of being toothless.

Exchanging greetings with passers-by, Harvest checked in on some of the other ship-girl efforts. The de-mining program seemed to be going smoothly. Even before the Abyssal War, many nations of the world had struggled to deal with millions of land mines laid throughout the twentieth century; the combination of massive numbers of mines laid coupled with the effort-intensive process of removing them made de-mining dangerous and time-consuming. And despite the efforts of many thousands of committed volunteers, mines continued to claim thousands of victims.

Ship-girls, however, made de-mining much easier. A mine meant to blow up a tank would barely scratch a battleship's armor plate.

In fact, de-mining efforts remained the most popular assignment for battleship ship-girls. Though a few were retained for Abyssal patrols, battleships were resource-intensive to sail, even more so with the change from wartime to peacetime production. Similarly, though battleships were fearsome deterrents, their very stature made them ill-suited to most peacekeeping roles. Cruisers and destroyers were better able to win hearts and minds playing with the children, and if they ever did need to respond to anything they had the speed to do so, while their firepower would not level an entire city block if it needed to be used.

Their massive size and armor weight may have left battleships ill-suited to peacekeeping, but it made them perfect for de-mining. The sheer amount of armor plate shrugged off even the most powerful land mines—New Jersey described anti-tank minefields as "foot massages I can get for free," while the tickle of anti-personnel mines resulted in many Youtube videos of giggling ship-girls—and the walking patterns to ensure no mines were left fit well with the precise, methodical mindset of battleships. The de-mining efforts were even having some beneficial diplomatic results, despite the status of ship-girls as untethered to individual nations. Japan's status amongst Southeast Asia, for example, rose considerably after Yamato herself came there as part of the de-mining program. All in all, Harvest thought to herself as she ignited her thrusters and took off towards Yokosuka, things were going pretty well.

And then, of course, there were all the ventures in science and technology opened after the war. Scientists from the world over made coming to Switzerland almost a pilgrimage; now not only for CERN but for _Harvest_ 's hull hovering above. Most of what they were discussing went way over Harvest's head, but just about every scientist in the world was excited by at least one thing on the ship. From cryogenic suspension to slipspace to her fusion reactor to her A.I. to her Titaniam-A plating, UNSC _Harvest_ was driving the global scientific and engineering communities bonkers. Copeland had transferred back into the ship, bringing it down above Switzerland once a day for traffic to travel on and off the ship, before ascending back into geo-synchronous orbit to save wear-and-tear on the engines. Harvest herself was grateful her hull wasn't just being left as a ghost ship, but she still preferred being away from the steel frigate. Too many unpleasant memories.

Harvest was also thankful many of the technological advances from the Abyssal War weren't being abandoned with the war's end. The collapse in international trade coupled with the destruction of many off-shore oil platforms by the Abyssals forced great advances in cleaner energy sources. Wind, solar, biofuels, even nuclear had seen a boost, especially once government nationalization forced them to stop competing against each other. Coupled with the advances on the horizon thanks to _Harvest_ 's fusion power plant, fossil fuels looked more and more like a thing of the past, something Harvest's historian skipper would have been grateful to see. Who knew how different humanity might look if the Resource Wars never occurred.

Speaking of differences, Harvest thought as she landed back in Yokosuka and walked towards her room, the fame the little frigate had (unknowingly) built up during the war coupled with appreciation for the fact that alien civilizations are _somewhere_ out there led to renewed interest in space travel. NASA and other space agencies enjoyed budgets they had hardly dreamed of, and plans for future ventures off world were well underway. Already plans were being drawn up for new space stations around Earth, and Repensum's talk about Earth's orbital tethers moved what had been wishful and speculative thinking towards actual projects. Apparently Repensum had visited Sol more than a few times during her time as an ONI Prowler; her knowledge of orbital stations had been a pleasant surprise to many space agencies. People were talking about settlements on Luna in as short as forty years, maybe even stations on Mars by the 2080s.

All those thoughts brought Harvest's attention back to her own job. Despite her unquestioned status as the most powerful ship girl, Harvest shied away from the suggestion that the UNSC frigate should lead the world's ship-girls. Harvest readily acknowledged there were many ship girls far better suited to diplomacy and leadership than she was. Let the capital ships handle all that; Harvest was a frigate at heart, and she preferred busy work far more than the delicate acts of politics. Luckily for her, there was a big opportunity for busy work that only she could do. Humanity's early ventures into space had left millions of pieces of debris in orbit around Earth, posing incredible danger to further space travel, even before the Covenant battlecruiser had annihilated any intact satellite in orbit around the planet. Though most of the pieces were practically microscopic, there remained many thousands of more sizable pieces of litter cluttering Earth's orbit.

Perfect busy work for a spaceship-girl. Harvest grabbed her equipment rig out of her room, put it on, and lit her thrusters again, soaring into orbit above the green and blue gem she called home. A jaunty grin on her face, the frigate pinged her sensors, singing to herself as she flew towards the nearest concentration of debris.

"Fly me to the moon, Let me plaaay among the stars!" Harvest didn't particularly care how cheesy her choice in music seemed to some of the others. She was just happy to have a job that needed doing that (for once) was unlikely to result in her death. So what if she knew that springtime on Jupiter was nothing to get worked up over? Maybe Mars would be nicer. Not even the distinctive marks of plasma burns on the pieces she stuffed into her rig brought her mood down. That SHIVA had definitely done its job; pretty much the entire teardrop-shaped aft section of the CCS had been vaporized by the blast, while the neck of the battlecruiser had made a new crater on Luna. Harvest had checked out the wreck before returning to Earth after her mission with Nagato, and had found the nose strangely empty. Perhaps any crew that had been in the forward section had moved aft to deal with her and Nagato, and had thus been caught when the SHIVA went off. Harvest had motored out of the battlecruiser as best she could after her MAC spaced Nagato, but though she was able to make it out of the blast radius in time the explosion still sent the frigate for quite the tumble. Harvest never failed to remember that, yet again, the little frigate had cheated certain death against the Covenant. Even more than her rescue from the Abyssals, her second escape from the Covenant left the small frigate grateful to wake up and live every day of her life.

"Fill my heart with song, And let me siiing forever more!" Harvest was excited for the future—an emotion she had never felt before. She hoped the peace would last a long time yet; perhaps with the specter of aliens out there somewhere, humanity would be less inclined to fight amongst itself. A silly hope, perhaps, but having known nothing but war her whole life, Harvest knew she'd enjoy some peace.

Of course, the spaceship also knew that with the sheer vastness of space, it was a near-certainty that they'd encounter an alien civilization sooner or later. She only hoped that when that time came, it would go a lot better than the first contact with the Covenant at Harvest.

"In other words, please be truuue!" Of course, all those worries were for times still yet to come. And for the present, at least, humanity was at peace and the future looked bright. Harvest couldn't ask for anything more. Snatching a couple floating pieces of solar panel and jamming them into her rig, she finished her song. "In other worrrds! In other worrrds! Ayyyee! Looove!—Dah! Dah! Dah!" she made finger-gun motions with her hands, before turning towards the planet she had sworn to protect. "You!"


End file.
